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gloomwitchwrites · 4 months

Text

Winter Gem

Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

Content & Warnings: soft!Thranduil, widowed!Thranduil, fluff, peril & rescue, mild hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.8k

Seeking something precious for Thranduil, you're caught in a storm. When you don't return, he goes searching for you.

A/N: For @firelightinferno

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

“The first snows have arrived.”

“It has come early.”

Thranduil inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Indeed.”

You stand beside Thranduil outside the main gates. Five guards stand nearby but there is no danger. A steady snowfall drifts down from the sky. The snowflakes are slightly gray in appearance, almost like ash on the wind. You frown down at a few of the flakes that land on your leather vambrace.

“You look ready for your hunt,” observes Thranduil, gesturing toward your attire with the tip of his head.

“Yes,” reply softly. “I plan on heading out for a bit.”

His eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “In this weather?”

You glance up from the vambrace and meet his blue eyes. Thranduil’s gaze is startling and sharp. Piercing. Intense. It cuts right down to your heart. His gaze always holds you hostage, wrapping you up in his essence. Most might find Thranduil intimidating, but you know better.

“Is my king telling me I cannot?” You’re teasing him, and Thranduil knows this. His smile is one of soft amusement.

“As long as you return to me. You are free to do as you wish.” Even though Thranduil’s tone is gentle, you understand the deeper meaning.

Thranduil lost his wife many years ago. Other than his son, Legolas, you are his comfort. He wants you to be free, to enjoy the pleasures of life, but he also wants you to be safe, to return to him at the end of every leaving.

Thranduil glances over his shoulder. The guards on duty discreetly glance away, staring off into the distance as if they’ve suddenly found something of great interest. Thranduil leans in and shifts his body to block their view of you. He is close enough that it might appear that the two of you are kissing, but he does not meet your lips.

In the end, Thranduil is private about affection. He does not like to share your tender moments together in front of others.

“Enjoy your hunt. I eagerly await your return.”

You give him a half-hearted, sarcastic bow that immediately puts a wide smile on his face. Thranduil watches you until you disappear into the trees. Perhaps he lingers longer than that, wondering if you will turn around and come back to him.

It is true. You are on a hunt, but not for what he or anyone else is likely expecting.

Over a week ago, Thranduil went out in the woods with some of the guards on patrol. It’s the first time he’s been out beyond the walls in some time. Many patrols that ventured into the northern regions reported back on a strangeness in the air, and the scent of evil. Thranduil decided to investigate.

While tracking, he lost something precious.

Around his neck on a chain, Thranduil kept a silver ring. Within the ring is a precious gem, a blue stone so pale it almost appears white like a burning star. The chain that held it snapped while he and the guards chased a group of spiders that had made their way south.

He remembered it snagging, and while he did not show any distress upon telling you of its disappearance, you also know how much that ring and jewel means to him. It was a gift from his wife when they were newly married. She had a matching one, but upon her death, Thranduil moved it from his finger to around his neck.

This hunt—your hunt—is about that ring. You have a fairly good idea about where it might have fallen, and there is no reason for it to have moved since then. Few enter these woods unless they follow the road, and that is on rare occasions.

Tracking is your specialty, and your time is not limited due to the falling snow. But you’ve tracked in worse weather. The snow is unfortunate, but you can still search as long as it remains at its current pace. The tree cover will keep much of the snow in the higher canopy. There will be time yet before the snow completely covers the ground and you lose the trail.

Heading north, you retrace the path the patrol took. Yes, a week has passed, and nature reclaims much, but not everything is hidden so quickly. There are small disturbances that indicate the path ahead.

As you begin to draw nearer to the area Thranduil mentioned, the snow starts to pick up. It becomes thicker, not staying above in the canopy but instead making its way to the ground. It’s not ideal, but you can manage.

Thranduil mentioned two tree trunks growing together and then breaking apart. When you happen upon it, the snow comes down in thicker sheets. On the ground, it’s sticking. Collecting. Time is running out. Elves have good eyes, and you focus in on the ground, gnarled roots, and underbrush.

Near the base of the tangled tree, you notice a slight sparkle. Approaching it, you go down on one knee, brushing away some of the snow.

“Found you.”

The ring is there, resting in the roots. It appears undamaged, and that is a relief. Picking it up, you tuck it into an inside pocket, protecting it from the elements.

The snow crunches under your boots, and the wind howls. For the first time, you shiver. Cold is not and has never been an issue. Elves can withstand a great many things, including winter weather.

Frowning, you turn into the chilly wind. There is a disturbance. Something dark and foul. It sets the edges of your nerves tingling. A simmering suspicion bubbles up from somewhere within you, question whether this snow is natural or not.

Turning on your heel, you head back the way you came. But the snow is heavy, and your fresh tracks are starting to slip away, returning to the snow. As you walk, the snowfall becomes a storm. The wind whips up, swirling the snow around until you cannot see more than a few feet in front of your face.

Your instincts were right. This storm is not natural. It is too early for it, and storms like these are rare in the Woodland Realm.

The toe of your boot catches in a downed tree branch and you slam face first into the snow. It’s freezing. Temperature isn’t usually a deterrent for the elves, but this is beyond cold. It’s as if you’ve been swallowed whole by a massive glacier.

You walk and walk, and you have no idea if you’ve gained any ground. There are no visible signs, and you’re not sure how far you’ve gone, or if you’re simply walking in circles. The snow is deepening or perhaps you’re imagining it. Everything seems darker, like the world is closing in.

You’re not dressed for this sort of weather.

And you’re tired. So tired. Your knees and thighs burn, and sitting down for some rest doesn’t seem so bad. It’s fine. You can take refugee within the deep roots of a tree. You can stay warm there until the snow dissipates. Then, you can return. Thranduil will understand.

As if opening for you, the roots of a nearby tree expand, showing safety from the storm. You slink into it, curling up into a ball.

You drift in the howling wind. There is a haze that sits on your eyelashes. Whether you dream or not is irrelevant. Numbness oozes into your limbs, and that only forces you to curl up tighter, wanting to pull away from the cold.

A hand touches the side of your head. It is warm. Gentle. The fingers slide up to brush your hair out of your face. You hear your name but it is a whisper. Distant. So far away it doesn’t seem real.

There are arms around you. Lifting. Steady. And when you inhale, the scent is familiar. You know who it is instantly.

“Thranduil,” you murmur, and the answer is a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“I found you, my star.”

There are only short moments of consciousness. There is snow. Cold. The antlers of an elk. The gates of home, and then warmth. So much warmth that the numbness begins to recede.

You are brought back to the living world near a roaring fire. Beneath you is a makeshift bed comprised of pillows and soft blankets. You shift, and feel bare skin against bare skin. Slowly, you push yourself to sitting.

Your leather gear is gone, replaced with a soft robe that traps in the heat.

“You’re awake.” Thranduil’s voice is a gentle, comforting hug.

Turning toward his voice, you watch as he glides across the floor. Thranduil wears silver robes of starlight. In his hands in a small tray. On it is a steaming cup of tea and an assortment of food. Bending at the knees, Thranduil settles in beside you, placing the tray down on the blankets.

“You came looking for me,” you say, and your voice nearly cracks with emotion.

“Did you think I would not?” he asks, arranging the food around on the tray.

You know, deep in your heart, that Thranduil would come, but you also believed in your abilities as a tracker. “When did you start to worry?”

Thranduil lifts the cup off the tray and presents it to you. “When the storm picked up. Something about it felt unnatural.” You take it, and bring the warm beverage to your lips. “I gathered some guards and we set out. It is good that we found you in time.” He pauses. “I’m not sure my heart could take any more loss.”

The heat of the tea spreads throughout your body, the chill slipping away quickly. “I do believe you are correct. That storm was not natural.”

Thranduil nods. “There is a growing darkness to the north. The scouts on patrol have spoken of it often but have been unable to get close enough for more details.”

“Perhaps I strayed too close,” you murmur.

“Perhaps,” replies Thranduil, reaching out to take your hand. He lifts it, and brings it into his lap. Using both hands, he rotates your wrist until your palm faces the ceiling. Then, he guides your open palm to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of it.

Instant warmth shoots out from that spot, running down your arm and piercing your heart like an arrow. Slowly, he curls your fingers in, creating a loose fist, and then brushes his lips against your knuckles before pulling away.

He does not release your hand. “I know why you left.”

“Thranduil—”

“You did not need to explain. I understand why.” Thranduil reaches out and cups your cheek, turning your face toward him. “I am thankful that you found it, but you are also precious to me, and losing you is a far greater loss.”

You turn into his touch. “That ring is important to you.”

“Many things are important to me. But the ring is just that. A thing. You are breathing. You are here. I would like to keep it that way.”

Your eyes drift close and you revel in the warmth of his touch. “Are you mad?”

“Never.”

“Will you hold me?”

“For as long as you like.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @ninman82 @therealbloom

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entishramblings · 5 months

Text

Watcher of Wanderers [Legolas/F!Reader]

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

Pairing: Legolas X F!Reader

Song Inspo: Mountain Meditation by Chantress Seba

🌬️ I highly recommend listening while reading

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

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

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

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

Additional Content: moodboard linked here

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

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

That’s what (Y/N) was, wasn’t she?

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

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

Cursed to guide them and bend them.

Cursed to behold them.

Cursed to be them.

Alone.

A Watcher of Wanderers.

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

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

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

Still, she wandered more.

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

Still, she wandered more.

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

Still, she wandered more.

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

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

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

So, she followed them.

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

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

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

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

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

See that was the thing.

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

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

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

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

But he couldn’t….

No…

He couldn’t have heard her….could he?

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cursed? But why?”

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

“What sorts of mischief do you speak of?”

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

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

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

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

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

….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A watcher of wanderers indeed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She hadn't left when he closed the windows.

She was still here.

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She remained unresponsive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

……

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aragorn raised a brow, “Strange occurrences?”

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

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

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

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

Legolas hesitated, “But what if she wakes?”

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

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

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

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

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

To her astonishment, Legolas responded, “Pain.”

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

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

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

The elf smiled gently in response.

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it,” he commanded.

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

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

…..

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#vayawrites #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #legolas #legolas x reader #legolas/reader #legolas fic #legolas fanfic #legolas fanfiction #LOTR fic #LOTR fanfic #legolas one shot #legolas drabble #legolas love story #LOTR writer #LOTR writing

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gus-the-goldfish · 7 months

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Headcanon: riding them the first time

A/N; No one asked for this, but i, once again, fell into the lotr/hobbit hole. So there is that. Now I will probably disappear for another year before posting any stories. Enjoy!

Rating: 18+ minors avert your eyes

Warnings: smut!, a tiny bit of degradation

Characters involved: Kili, Fili, Thranduil

Kili:

The first time you literally flipped him over to be on top, his eyebrows shot up so high on his forehead you were worried they would never return to normal

Boy was he surprised

He is usually a talker, loves to tease you in and outside of the bedroom but at that moment, he was speechless

For a few seconds he just stared at you, not knowing what the fuck he was supposed to do now since he was usually the one on top

You started out slow , just grinding against him which had him gripping your hips so hard you were sure there would be bruises

Honestly he wouldn’t be able to stop moaning because it felt so fucking good

And the way you look, fuck. Enjoying yourself, literally using him for your own pleasure

From that day on, he was the one almost begging you to ride him

Fili:

Fili, like his brother, was surprised to have you on top of him but he recovered quickly and had a shit eating grin plastered on his face “Alright then...”

He would quiet literally lean back and enjoy the show, giving you some encouraging words along the way

“Doing so good, love. Keep going.”

“That’s it, make yourself cum.”

Would shamelessly grab, kiss, bite and lick any inch of skin he could find

Grabs your hips to keep you still once he noticed you’re close, just to hear you whimper and beg him to let you cum

“Not yet, love. You got to work for it.”

When he feels like you deserve to cum, he would just grab the back of your neck and pull you down to him before fucking up into you with a intensity that lets you see stars

Safe to say its his new favorite position

Thranduil:

He felt insulted the first time you mentioned your desire to be on top for once

Thranduil is a king. A king has to be in control

He agreed to try it after lots of convincing (and to shut you up)

Once you finally settled on top of him, with his cock deep inside of you, he had the audacity to look bored. Bored!

Tried really hard to look unaffected when you started to move, but you did notice him licking his lips at the way your boobs bounced right in his face

He kept his hands at his sides, denying you the pleasure of his hands on your body even when you begged him to touch you, to guide you

Would definitely start mocking you when your legs gave out right before your orgasm

“What is it, meleth nin? You wanted to do this on your own, didn’t you?”

“Look at my stupid little girl, cant even ride her king properly.”

Finally had mercy on you when you started to cry from frustration and desperation

“No, no don’t cry now little star. I will show you how it’s done.”

Would fuck and overstimulate you for hours to remind you why he is the one on top

Secretly likes you on top anyway

#lotr smut #lotr fanfic #thranduil smut #kili smut #fili smut #thranduil x reader #kili x reader #fili x reader #the hobbit smut #lord of the rings smut

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elfy-elf-imagines · 3 months

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Tolerate It | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Human!Reader

▹ Genre: Angst

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: A political alliance makes you the new wife of the elven king Thranduil, trapping you in a gilded cage of elven craft.

▹ Notes: I couldn't get this idea out of my head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The banquet hall of Eryn Galen was buzzing with high energy.

The lights were bright, the drinks flowing. Each guest was too deep in their cups as the band played jaunty tunes that kept spirits high. You sat at the end of the table, to the direct right of Thranduil, Legolas seated directly across from you to the king's left.

Everything was beautiful, similar to what you imagined heaven may look like. The celebration had been highly anticipated, the steward meticulously planning for months to ensure the night would be perfect.

Each guest had dressed to the nines, and you had been no exception. Silks that flowed like a languid river, braids woven throughout your hair, and glittering jewels that rivaled the stars in the sky. You’d felt quite pretty after your handmaidens finished, taking in your appearance with rapt attention.

Yet as the king - your husband - met with you, he barely paid you more than a glance. Not a single compliment or acknowledgment slipped from his lips, just the stiff offering of his arm and a cold demeanor you’d never been able to break through.

Not even the bitterness of the red wine you drank could ease the pain festering inside you. You glanced at Thranduil, his attention on his steward whispering something in his ear. Regal and commanding, you’d thought marriage to the elven king would be something out of a fairytale. Yet your story became twisted, and instead of a happy ending, you were trapped in a doomed marriage. It was like a wall separated you from him; you’d tirelessly beat against it with a hammer; Thranduil was on the other end, reinforcing the stone.

You glanced down at your dress, the pale green fabric, Thranduil’s favorite shade. Even still, you were desperate for his validation and approval, like a child tugging at their father’s sleeves. A stray hair fell in front of your face, and you pushed it behind your ear, hands ghosting over your rounded ears. Maybe if you’d been an elf and not a human, he might view you as an equal and not a consolation prize.

One hand below the table closed into a tight fist while you downed the rest of your wine in one gulp.

Legolas met your eye from across the table with an almost apologetic grin. You returned it with a tight smile you tried to make pleasant. Legolas knew all too well the neglect his father could inflict, so he often preferred the forests over the palace. There was an understanding that made your pain more bearable.

The handmaidens you brought from home and your stepson, who was older than your eldest living relatives, were all that kept you from falling into true despair.

Like clockwork, a servant filled your chalice, and you gladly drank. This wine was sweeter and less sharp than the red you were expecting. Once again, you looked towards Thranduil, no longer speaking with his steward but quietly watching the party play out. You reached out, delicately placing your hand over his, only for his to push it away, not bothering to pay you a glance.

The blatant rejection stung, always taking up too much space and time. Would Thranduil even notice if you’d stolen away into the night? If you pulled the dagger your marriage embedded in you, breaking free and leaving this miserable life behind. What might it be like to shed the weight of Thranduil’s cold disposition and an overly suspicious, judgmental, elvish kingdom? You’d be free and weightless for the first time in years.

Yet, just as soon as the fantasies came, they fizzled out with the weight of reality. You had no money of your own, no survival skills, and nowhere to go. If you returned home, your father would ship you back to Thranduil. The dark forests and the creatures that lurked within would kill you. There was nowhere to go. No freedom to be found.

You didn’t bother hiding the frown on your lips; no one in the room paid you much mind. They looked through you as if you were a phantom that clung to the residence of its former life. How was it possible to be in such a crowded room and yet still be so alone?

"How much longer do you believe this will go on for?"

At some point, Legolas had moved from across the table and was now seated to your left, watching the crowded room with thinly veiled discomfort.

" I hope for not much longer. I've never been amendable to crowds so large as this one."

Legolas laughed, the noise swallowed by the noise of the room. "And yet you are queen; should you not be used to such raucous parties?"

You tilted your glass towards him, a slight quirk on your lips.

"I could say the same about you, prince."

He nodded in silent agreement, quickly drinking from his glass, which you noticed was filled with water and not wine.

"I get to run off to the forest. How do you deal with all of this?" The smile on your face fell as your eyes dimmed, a reminder of your current standing.

"No one pays me mind. A blessing, I suppose." You attempted to laugh it off, but you couldn't keep the somberness from your tone. You were trapped in a gilded cage, a prisoner in your own home.

"Then I suppose I'll need to take more respites in the castle."

"You don't need--"

"I insist; what kind of friend would I be if I didn't check on your wellbeing."

So warm and inviting, it made you wonder how Legolas could be the son of Thranduil; he must take after his mother. You wondered, if only for a moment, how different your life might be if you'd been married to Legolas instead of his father. He was the more age appropriate option and if he didn't love you he'd at least respect you. But those thoughts were pointless; you'd been married to Thranduil and not Legolas.

"I think I'm technically your stepmother."

"But you feel more like a friend."

You didn't bother to argue, placing down your wine chalice to take a cool water drink. It was refreshing, soothing the burn the wine had created.

"Then I am glad we are friends."

Before he could respond, a member of his guard called his name. The elf enthusiastically waved him over, yelling something in elvish too slurred for you to understand.

Legolas shook his head, refusing the call, but you placed a single hand on his shoulder.

"Go, enjoy the night. I'll be fine over here."

He tried to discern if you were being dishonest but found nothing but sincerity. Just because you were miserable didn't mean he should be. With a single nod, Legolas left the table to join the group forming in the corner of the room.

Left in the chaos with no one to speak with, you picked up the chalice with wine. At some point during your conversation, Thranduil wandered off, talking with some of the higher-ranking nobles.

Thickly, you swallowed, hiding your face as you slowly drank from your glass.

When would this torment end?

---

The night dragged on at an impossibly slow speed. Your sorrow brought time to a near halt. By the time the crowd began to thin and Thranduil had escorted you back to your shared chambers, you’d forgotten how many glasses of wine you consumed. You managed to keep your composure and pride, not letting you show how light and lethargic the alcohol made you.

Now, you sat before your vanity, preparing for bed as did Thranduil. There were so many pins placed in your hair that you struggled to pull them out without ripping your hair. Your head throbbed, and your frustration was building; you just wanted sleep. A cold hand pushed yours away, tangling in your hair. With practiced and fluid movements, Thranduil began to take down your hair. He was quick and efficient, his hands in your hair almost soothing.

The action was oddly domestic, and it caused a pang of pain in your chest. If the gods had been fair enough to bless you with a husband who loved you, this would be a nightly occurrence, not a rare show of care.

“There’s too many pins in your hair.” Always critical; nothing would ever be good enough.

A beat of silence passed; did he even want you to speak?

“It was a special occasion; I wanted something different done to my hair.”

Clink. He placed the last pin on the table and stepped away from you.

“It was a bit gauche.”

Expression tight, you stared at your reflection, focused on your dark hair that tangled too quickly and your nearly pallid complexion. Gauche and graceless, the elves would never view you as their own.

“I thought it looked nice.”

His answer was to silently turn his back to you, moving to the other end of the room. The silence was maddening. Your attention never moved from your reflection, lips downturned as your eyes hardened. Pain turned to rage, pity becoming an all-consuming fire that threatened to turn all in your wake to ash.

“Why marry me?” Your tone was harsh, firmer than you could remember speaking.

Thranduil let out a sigh, seemingly annoyed at your mere presence. Normally, his disregard made you shrink, and maybe it was the wine, but it only made you straighten your back, meeting his eyes through his reflection in your mirror.

“To seal an alliance with your kingdom, you know this.” He was always condescending; he was so much older and wiser.

“I understand political marriages, but why marry me? You’ve managed political alliances without offering your hand in marriage; you even have a son to marry off. So why--” You slowly stood from your chair, turning to face him directly. “-marry me?”

“Would you have preferred to marry Legolas?”

“I’d prefer you answer my question. So I’ll ask once more: why marry me?” You strode towards him, eyes narrowed.

“To ensure an alliance with your family.”

“That is it? For no reason other than that.”

Thranduil looked down at you, his lips tight.

“Did you hope to hear differently?” He tilted his head, eyes ice cold and bitter. “Ours was a marriage of convenience, not love.”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing thickly. All of it for nothing, a marriage he knew would never succeed. He may have been content with a loveless life after the passing of his wife, but he knowingly dragged you into it. To turn your life into a void--

You wanted to scream, to yell obscenities at him, to spit all the vile venom his careless behavior filled you with. But it would do no good. An emotional breakdown wouldn’t mend your rift; there was no foundation of respect to rebuild. It was just endless nothingness. Standing at the precipice, you would simply fall into a never-ending pit.

“I see.”

A hint of shock made his eyes widen a fraction, expecting an outburst like the one you fantasized about. Humans weren’t known for patience, yet it wasn’t patience that kept you silent. It was dejection; you'd given up hope of anything better than what you had.

You dared not move, not even blink until Thranduil turned towards the door.

“I think I will ensure the keep is secured. Goodnight.”

Head turned, yet your eyes remained where he once stood; you remained silent. The door opened and quietly shut behind his retreating form. Only then did you exhale the breath you’d been holding.

The bed was plush under your body, and the comforter was like a cloud, yet you’d never felt more miserable. You turned your back to the side Thranduil would take when he returned to the chambers. Eyes shut, soothed by the darkness, you dreamed of something more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

#thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit one shot #the hobbit #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings imagine #middle earth imagines #lotr #tolkien #lord of the rings #lord of the rings oneshot #mirkwood elves #lord of the rings fanfic #king thranduil

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owlsinleatherjackets · 1 year

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there are 4 versions of The Lord of the Rings: the books, the films, the extended editions, and the self-insert fanfic you’ve had bouncing around in your head since you were fourteen

#and then sometimes you start getting them mixed up #wait did i make up tom bombadil?#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanfic #lotr movies #lotr books #tolkien #middle earth #lotr canon #lord of the rings canon #lotr fandom #lotr extended editions #jrrt

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ohnonotnow · 3 months

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my library

here's some of the best the hobbit/lotr fanfics I've read cuz they can be quite hard to find and I wanna help

will update the list as I read

Thorin

Smoke, iron and Thorin

Fire and Gold

Learning Khuzdul

Braid of Gold

Thorin being soft

The Beauty of Chance

Those Hands

Misunderstanding

The arrival

A king's crown

Covered In Steam

There's just inches in between us

Thorin after a long day of training with his nephews

In This Moment

Agreement

Symphony of your life

Oh so quiet

Confession

Find Your Way Back

Fili

fili oneshots

Moonrise

The Most Unpleasant, Defective, and Abominable Incident

Stay with me

The Redeemer

Durin's Garage

Restless

Kili

The book keeper

insecurities

The beauty and the Beast

getting back at Kili for teasing

My Treasure

Madly in love

It's in his kiss

Love Bites

Sway With Me

Wood Carvings

Softly. . .

Sweet like nectar

A Shot in the Dark

Beorn

Early Mornings

Beorn takes care of you when you're injured

Linger

Legolas

Watcher of Wanderers

The Innocence of Brutality

Blessing

Sensitive

Being best friends with Legolas

Hazy Memories

Spellbound

Thranduil

Bookworm

Relax

Best friends father

Fascination

Flower On My Skin

To Meet Under the Stars

Passenger Princess

Autumn Thunderstorm

I Could Love You With My Eyes Closed

Haldir

Gentle Dark

Lindir

My Heart Is In Your Hands

Moonlight

Just a Little Help

Warriors Great Tales

The Fountain

Return to Me

Èomer

Burnt Bread

A Helping Hand

Wildest Dreams

Falling In Love With A Librarian

SFW alphabet

Happiness

A Roll in the Hay

Blessing

Turning Points

More characters

various characters oneshots

Imagine: elves having highly sensitive ears and you finding out by accidently touching them.

Journey to Erebor

Hair braiding

Elves + Braiding

What Type of Kisser is Each LoTR Character?

The Hobbit Characters + Physical Affection (Suggestive Version)

A Headcanon For Each Member of Thorin’s Company

Cuddling With Thorin's Company

Imagine some of the elves of Middle Earth find out how easy it is to make you (a human staying in Rivendell) blush and become aroused.

The LOTR characters reacting to a modern reader

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faeriichaii · 3 months

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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

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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tamurilofrivendell · 3 months

Text

Crush | Legolas x Reader

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

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

Word count: 2,990

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

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

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

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

It was a long afternoon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, a day later, he approached you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You'd turned a blind eye.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#legolas x reader #legolas x you #legolas fanfic #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #lotr fanfic #hobbit fanfic #ugh i'm a little out of practice with legolas and he didn't fully cooperate like I wanted him to #but if I fiddle anymore with this I'll delete it lmao

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miseries-mistress · 1 year

Text

SOLICITUDE | LEGOLAS GREENLEAF

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

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

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

lotr masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fear.

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

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

"Then why do you avoid me?"

"I do not."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's silly, I know-"

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

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

"So you thought you were unwanted?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I would hear them."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please."

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

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

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

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

Irresistible.

You met in the middle.

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

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

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

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

And it did as all things do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did it work?"

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

You took the hair tie.

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

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

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dryadalisliv · 6 months

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I dont care, the line: "Dont go where i cant follow" is the number one most romantic line i've ever read in my entire life. And you will not tell me it was wasted on a couple of bros being dudes... that line was from one lover to another

#i rest my fucking case #sam and frodo #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #samfro #frodo x sam #lotr #lotr fanfic

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ironmandeficiency · 10 months

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the fellowship + romance

characters included: aragorn, boromir, gimli, legolas, pippin

word count: 1177

summary: just some soft shit bc these men are all sappier than any tree in the greenwood

a/n: there’s still an overwhelming lack of gimli content that needs to be fixed and i will do my part

aragorn 🗡️

aragorn’s quiet presence is the warmest blanket on a cold night, the first bite of a meal you slaved over for hours, every comfort you’ve ever experienced

he’s never been one for overwhelming displays of his affections; instead, he shows you in simple ways that add up - giving you the more full bowls of broth, laying his blanket over you if he notices you shivering during night watch, sharpening your weapons (this one had gimli nearly brought to tears by the devotion it spoke of), anything that helps your days pass easier

he grew up around stories of elves who committed astounding feats in the name of those they loved, fighting wars and risking their lives with alarming frequency. but none of them ever talked about the everyday ways they showed love. his mother taught him what she could about those things, stories of his father’s steady presence and stalwart love for his family. a young aragorn took these lessons to heart and used them when the time was right

it was why, when he caught his heart skipping beats around you, he let his actions do the speaking for him. without fail you would thank him with a soft smile, slowly coming to realize that aragorn felt something much deeper for you than camaraderie. when you woke up early one morning to find your weapons sharper than they were the day before (not for the first time), you went straight to aragorn and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. he nearly dropped your bowl of stew in his flustered state

having your affections secured didn’t mean he stopped his small acts of kindness, it did quite the opposite. it just made him bolder and more confident in his actions

boromir 🍻

this man is so damn tactile it’s ridiculous

if you’re the cuddly type like he is, it makes him all the more eager to always have some form of physical contact with you, no matter where you may be

unless you tell him to back off, he is always touching you one way or another. a gentle hand on the small of your back, your pinkies interlocked, an arm wrapped around your shoulder, anything to keep you close to him

his favorite time of day eventually becomes the end of it, because that’s when he can hold you close and whisper soft words of love in your ear while he holds you. he makes it his goal to give you a goodnight kiss every night you spend together

the best cuddle position in his mind is you leaning your back against his chest, one of his hands resting on your hip where his thumb rubs small circles above the bone, and his chin resting on your shoulder just right to where he can turn his head to kiss your cheek or burrow his face into your neck

gimli 🛡️

valiantly is the best way to describe how gimli approaches any situation he comes upon, including (and especially) matters of the heart

this is a dwarf who says what he means & means what he says, who does nothing that he wouldn’t be proud of the next day. because of this, you couldn’t find it in you to not believe him when he professed his love for you with such unwavering confidence you were nearly brought to tears. gimli never said anything just because his lips could move so you simply had to believe him

will do you favors big and small simply because he wants to help you however possible. you can’t remember the last time you carried your own pack or made your own bowl of soup. if you encouraged him (which you wouldn’t), this romantic fool would not let you lift another finger for as long as you both live

he grew up watching his parents with keen eyes, his adad showing him by example how a true dwarf treats their one. he embodies these lessons with every interaction with you, striving to be the one you deserve him to be. it ranges from the ferocity of his protection to opening doors for you. may mahal strike him down if he ever hurts you

he just wants to be a dwarf you’re proud to love, proud to call yours

legolas 🏹

physical affection can be difficult for him, but one thing legolas is good at doing is speaking his mind and his heart

if you thought his regular speaking pattern was overflowing with poetic descriptors, you’ve heard nothing compared to when he’s being truly romantic. no one you’d been with before had ever described you with such beautiful prose, never whispered soft poetry about your eyes to lull you to sleep

and he’s a cheeky bastard about it too! it’ll be a regular conversation between friends, nothing important, then BAM! he’s making quippy one-liners about your overwhelming skill/beauty/personality that catch you off guard and has your friends cackling at your flustered reaction to his flattery

even better, his praise will often include sindarin and on the off chance you don’t speak it, you’ll have to gauge the meaning from the silent looks shared between your dear elf and aragorn (doesn’t really work). eventually legolas tells you what some of them mean; after all, he needs to have an element of intrigue about him or his name isn’t legolas thranduillion

he carries a lot of pride for you and will brag about you to anyone who listens, his melleth being one of unparalleled skill and beauty and bright laughter that carries his soul on great wings

pippin 🥕

his already strong need to be silly and foolish grows exponentially when he finds out how happy it makes you

pip doesn’t care what it is you ask of him, he will do anything to hear your laugh. he’ll put baby carrots in his nostrils, respond to conversations exclusively in farm animal noises, he will even do his spot-on impressions of the rest of the fellowship and make them say all sorts of silly things

the best one to date is him doing an aragorn impression that consists of all the different ways he says legolas’s name

you’ve never heard such astounding colloquialisms from anyone until you met pippin - “don’t eat half the berries and say the pie shell’s too big,” “his cornbread isn’t done in the middle,” “if brains were leather, he wouldn't have enough to saddle a junebug” - and each time he says one, there’s always a not-so-subtle look to you so he can see your reaction. the ones that get the most laughs are used a little bit more, just enough to not lose their appeal but enough to hear your laughter all the more often

there is a single-minded determination to hear your snort when you laugh at something he says, and he will not rest until you do. his personal goal to do this resets each time you do actually snort, him now aiming for the next joke or prank that will bring it out again

#gimli x reader #legolas x reader #aragorn x reader #boromir x reader #pippin took x reader #lotr x reader #lord of the rings imagine #lotr imagine #lord of the rings fanfic #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings reader insert #lotr reader insert #aragorn imagine #boromir imagine #gimli imagine #pippin took imagine #legolas imagine

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notinusesworld · 5 months

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hello friend! Im so excited to have a new writer in the fandom!

if you are taking requests, (I’m gonna give you a broad one) legolas/reader with cuddles!

I hope you have a great day!

~ @entishramblings // vaya

a/n: thank you so much, i hope you enjoy this

Legolas and cuddles head cannons!

synopsis: as the tittle says, g!n reader

warnings: none! just fluff.

requests are open and encouraged!

- he’s a spooner. he absolutely loves to spoon, he’ll happily be the big spoon but he also likes being spooned, especially if you’re smaller then him

- however he likes cuddling in any position, and he will cuddle you whenever he has the chance to

- if he’s reading, he wants you in his lap, if you’re cooking, he’s hovering over you, if neither of you are doing anything that day, he wants to lay with you in bed

- sometimes when he wants to take a break from his duties, he’ll take you into the forest and sit under a tree, you in-between his legs, back against his chest and he’ll rest his head on your shoulder and play with your hands, he finds it relaxing

- he will give you kisses every so often, wherever he can when you he’s holding you, your face, neck, shoulders, hands, back etc etc

- he likes to hum, and you can feel the vibrations from it though your body whenever he does, kinda has the same effect of a cats purr

- he’s really quiet when he moves, so he likes to surprise you by hugging you from behind when you don’t know he’s there. it still startles you sometimes even though he’s done it millions of times

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr x reader #lotr x y/n #lotr x you #lotr requests #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit x you #tolkien #lotr fanfic #lotr headcanons #legolas x y/n #legolas x you #legolas imagine #legolas x reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas

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halfelven · 7 months

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Frodo comes back from Mordor and every storm he stands out in the rain, still, silently begging it to take away the burn he still feels (he’ll never feel like there isn’t ash in his throat; he still feels it in his lungs.) He just wants to feel like he isn’t burning, like he’s clean; he wants to feel water again.

‘It’s a shame he went mad,’ they say in the village.

Sam knows better than to ask. He stands out too, but back by the round door, where he can still feel the light, somehow. He doesn’t call to him to come back in. He just stays there so Frodo knows that he can. (He forgets, sometimes.)

The rain gets chilly as the year goes on. He doesn’t want to be cold again, but he is.

‘You’ll catch your death.’ Sam says it, even if he knows. He has to say something.

‘I won’t,’ Frodo says and what he means is he already did.

#tolkien #lord of the rings #lotr #jr2t #writing #my writing #frodo #sam #fragments #lotr fanfic

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annikityk · 5 months

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LOTR if it was written by the fanfiction writers 2.0:

'i never imagined I would die fighting side by side with an elf.'

'how about side by side with,' Legolas stumbled, looking for an appropriate word. Were they partners? Brothers? Something more intimate? 'A friend.'

'yeah, I could do that,' perhaps, Gimli would find a better word to describe their fellowship, except he was either too stubborn to accept it or too cowardly to voice it. And he definitely was too stubborn to accept he was cowardly.

#fanfiction #fiction #writers #lotr #lotr fanfic #lotr elves #lotr dwarves #legolas #gimli son of gloin #gimli #lotr gimli #lotr legolas #legolas x gimli

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elfy-elf-imagines · 4 months

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— Elven Instinct | Legolas Greenleaf *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Legolas x Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff

▹ Words: ~2.1k

▹ Summary: When you know, you know. There's no other way to explain it.

▹ Note: I listened to Margaret by Lana on repeat while writing this, 10/10 recommend. Also, unedited because it's 2am and I want to SLEEP.

You’d met Legolas early spring when the winds were still bitter and the frost was beginning to melt.

The moon was high and the chatter was mellow, the defeat of Sauron still fresh in everyone's memory. He’d been wearing his ceremonial armor and you a white dress. The jewels you wore shimmered like stars and your eyes shone like moonlit water. A human woman from a minor noble house, you never expected catching the eye of the elven prince that helped save the realm.

Legolas’ eyes followed you intently, entranced by your sweet voice and the slight creases around your eyes when you smiled. It had been three times your eyes had met and after the third time, Legolas found the courage to approach, downing his glass and leaving it behind. His hands trembled and a lump formed in his throat, but he’d kick himself later if he didn’t try. The pathway to you seemed miles long, the rest of the crowd blind to Legolas; it was as if a single light was guiding his way to you. His blood rushed and his heart raced; tingles lit his body up.

It was no shock when Legolas was a few feet away. You noticed him approaching, of course, you were entirely too aware of him and his lingering eyes. Liquid courage was found in a glass of wine that was sweet and tarte all at once. The alcohol caused your cheeks to flush but you knew the prince's presence would make them flush brighter. The alcohol would be a good excuse for the blush you’d soon have.

The noise in your mind grew hush once the elven prince stood before you. He smelled warm and fresh, well groomed and oiled with a hint of a woodsy scent. The smoothness of his features were nearly off putting, but the shy grin on his face was anything but unnerving. The tips of your fingers fiddled with the fabric of your dress and Legolas’ hands were clasped in front of him. Nervous and awkward, neither of you were sure how to proceed.

It was silent for a moment, replaced by the fumbling of the two of you speaking over each other. With the realization, the words were cut short and silence fell over the air. Your eyes fell to the floor and your teeth worried your lips while Legolas’ cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.

“Apologies, my prince--”

“I insist my lady, you first--”

Another bout of silence. Neither of you could remember how casual conversation worked. You peeked at him through your lashes, a small giggle slipping past your lips. It made Legolas ease his stiff posture, melting into the sound of your voice.

“May I have your name, my lady.” He couldn’t recall being so shy when speaking with a woman. All the confidence age and skill brought was drained from his body; he was an elfling fumbling over his own feet.

“It is Y/N. I would ask for yours, but I believe that question is redundant.”

“Am I so well known?”

Your grin widened in a way that would make your mother grimace.

“One of the heroes who saved Middle Earth and the son of the King of the Woodlands?” There was a hint of teasing in your tone, lips curled into a slight smirk. “I perhaps heard your name a time or two.”

Legolas laughed, eyes shut and head slightly tossed back. A stray ray of light hit his head, illuminating him with a halo above his head. “I suppose my reputation does precede me, but I feel like we’re standing on uneven ground. You know more of me than I do of you.”

Some of the nerves that made you feel fluttery and sick began to disappear. His easy and smile and comforting aura felt as same as the childhood nativity you clung to. He put stars in your eyes in a way no one else ever had.

“I’m afraid my life is dull in comparison to the other attendees of this party.”

The half smile on Legolas’ face contorted into a much softer appearance. Eye bright and voice low, it sent shivers down your spine.

“I dare say you are more so memorable.”

Your lashes fluttered and your breath got caught in your throat. Subtly, you pinched the side of your thigh, sending a prayer of gratitude to whatever god led you to this moment. A shy giggle bubbled from behind your closed lips. Emboldened from the haze the wine created, you leave a feather light touch over Legolas’ shoulder.

“A bold statement considering you’ve hardly known me a day.”

Legolas smiled at your quick retort, leaning towards your body, his head tilted down to see you better.

“They say an elves' instincts are never wrong.”

You raised a single brow in response, a coy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. All thoughts of formality and proprietary thrown out.

“And your instincts say I’m memorable?”

Legolas paused for a moment before continuing.

“Well when you know, you know.”

Unsure of how to react, a small bout of laughter left your mouth. The rest of the night was spent with Legolas at your side. Even as nobles singing his praises and vying for the favor of an elven prince, Legolas never strayed too far. With a polite smile and nod of the head, he would quickly dismiss the well-wishers in favor of returning his attention to you.

The night passed far too quickly, and with the blink of an eye you found yourself in the isolation of your room with your blankets pulled to your chin. Behind your closed eyes, your thoughts and dreams were nothing but Legolas and a life you were certain was too far from your grasp.

---

The crisp spring air was traded for balmy, long summer nights. The world began to return to normal, all that Mordor and Sauraman destroyed slowly being rebuilt. The coronation of the king was approaching, the heroes of Middle Earth lingering in Gondor, including Legolas.

You hadn’t spoken since your first meeting, but he was everywhere you looked. Walks through the city, visits to the Keep, or wandering through the gardens; it didn’t matter where you were, he was everywhere. To his credit, he made it seem as if he was a subject of fate and not the mastermind setting the chess board.

And the board was currently being reset in a small nook overlooking the city. The queen sat in front of a stone table with a book while the king lingered around the edges, unsure of how to approach.

“I began to think you were a ghost I’d imagined.” You spoke quietly and wet the tip of your finger. Flick. Your eyes began to scan the new page of your book.

From the corner of your eye you saw Legolas take the free chair directly across from you. His hands rested on the table, fingers intertwined.

“Why’s that?”

A slight smirk appeared on your lips, barely visible over your book. Finishing the sentence you were reading, you shut the book and set it on the table. Eye to eye, you took in Legolas’ appearance. His casual leathers had been traded in for formal attire, a delicate silver circlet resting above his brow. Gods did he look beautiful.

“You seem to be everywhere I am, yet this is the first time you’ve approached.”

Legolas stared at you a moment; a slight furrow of his brow in response to the tilt of your head and sly grin. “I approached you at the celebration.”

“The first and only time, if we don’t take this moment into consideration.”

Legolas narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, a grin pulling on his puzzled expression.

“You seem perfectly capable of starting a conversation and entirely aware of when we were in a room together.” The implication of his words weren’t lost on you, a slight flush betraying your embarrassment. You were entirely too aware of him.

“And how improper would that be?” You feigned a scandalized appearance, lightly swatting Legolas’ hand. “A minor noble woman approaching an elven prince? My mother would die from the embarrassment that scandal would cause.”

Legolas laughed; a short and sweet one that made his eyes turn to crescents. There was a flutter in your stomach and a misbeat of your heart. For a moment your eyes glazed over, not aware what Legolas was saying if he was speaking to begin with. He looked entirely too beautiful, his eyes too blue to be natural. Elves were supposed to be supernaturally beautiful, but none of the other elves wandering the keep were as beautiful as him.

“Ahh.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, the sound pulling you from the spell he cast. “How foolish of me to overlook that detail. In the future I will be sure to start all conversations, lest the public get the wrong idea.”

“A relief to hear you have agreed to stop silently stalking me. And they claim chivalry to be a dying behavior.” You rolled your eyes, the grin on your face dulling any snark in your words.

Your eyes returned to Legolas, the easy silence hanging over the two of you. The air was calm, sans a nervous fog over Legolas’ eyes. What was there to be worried over? The war was over, Sauron was defeated. You tried to remember what could be a cause of worry, but your mind came up empty. Even the remaining orcs were being hunted down and slain.

“But I’m sure that reassurance isn’t why you’re here.” You broke the silence, Legolas’ attention snapping back towards you. “What worried you?”

“I am to return home soon.”

Your mouth was parted, unable to hide the disappointment on your face.

“Oh.” The word was uttered so quietly you weren’t certain it was actually said. Of course he would go home, he’s a prince with duties to his people. It’s not as if there would be anything to keep him here after the King’s coronation next week.

“I wish you a safe journey.”

The tips of your fingers tapped against the smooth stone.

“You mistake me. It is expected of me to return home shortly after Aragorn’s coronation, but I am unsure if it is what I want to do.”

A slight furrow of your brows betrayed your confusion, but before you could open your mouth, Legolas continued to speak.

“We have not spoken nearly as much as I would’ve liked during my stay here, a predicament I understand to be a making of my own, but I--” He cut himself off, eyes lowering to the ground as he shook his head.

Oh.

The realization came with a bright red hue painting your cheeks. All this time, you never once considered the elven prince had affections for you. Each time you’d been in the same room, same hall, or same street, it never occurred to you he was building the courage to speak with you again. Had your first meeting had such an effect on him? Could he possibly get as fluttery and nervous as you do?

“I would like the chance to get to know you, Lady Y/N, and in time perhaps court you.”

Like a starstruck idiot, you stared at Legolas with wide eyes and parted lips. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears and in the distance there were birds singing, or maybe you’d just imagined that.

Legolas began to drum his fingers against the table, nervous eyes unable to meet yours. You’d been silent for too long, you realized. He may be getting the wrong idea. To assuage whatever fears were building within his head, you reached your hand out and placed it over him. It brought his attention back to you; wide eyed and flushed face he looked ages younger than he really was.

“I would love for the chance to get to know you beyond the surface level.”

Like dawn brightening the landscape, Legolas’ face lit up. Any petty fears or worries were banished from his expression. He brought his free hand to rest it atop your other free hand. He squeezed your hand three times before pulling them away. After a moment you hear the soft pad of footsteps on the ground.

A chair skids across the ground as Legolas stood from his seat, outstretching a hand towards you. “Perhaps the lady would grant me a walk through the halls?”

Gently, you stood from your seat, placing your hand in the crook of his arm.

“Lead the way my prince.”

#legolas imagine #legolas x reader #lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine #legolas #legolas oneshot #legolas greenleaf #tolkien #lotr #middle earth imagines #lotr movies #lord of the rings oneshot #lord of the rings #legolas fluff #mirkwood elves #lotr fanfic #lotr elves

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