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"A chef's salad for me, please and thank you." Blythe begins to gather the guy's menus, stacking them up for the waitress. She patiently waits for you to give the waitress the last order.

It would be one thing to be the odd one out and not order a salad. But you just had to be the last order out of all of your friends. Every eye was focused on you now. They would all be watching you, wanting to know what you were about to eat.

You were a hunter in training. Maybe this was the wake-up call you didn't know you needed. If you want to succeed, you'll have to be in the best shape possible, just like them. From now on, you'll stop eating so carelessly. Opening your mouth, you copy Caleb's order to stop thinking about it.

"I'll have the garden-"

"She would like the chicken sandwich, please."

Before the word salad can escape your mouth, Caleb cuts you off. You can feel the weight of the table's attention shift away from you and over to Caleb as he speaks up. He doesn't let it distract him, meeting your eyes only.

"That's what you were eyeing before, right? You want fries or onion rings with it?"

"Caleb..."

"Fries or onion rings, pipsqueak." It wasn't a question anymore. He wasn't giving you the opportunity to order a salad as your side either. Fries or onion rings. One or the other.

"Fries please," you mumble. You've always known Caleb is observant. But how in the world had he managed to see right through you? He knew exactly what you wanted to order without you having to say a word.

Caleb wasn't just observant. You're starting to wonder if he's psychic as well.

"Chicken sandwich and fries." With finality, Caleb slides the menu from your side of the table over to Blythe's.

Scribbling your order into her notepad, the waitress walks away from your table, heading out of sight to give the chefs your orders. Nervous, you peek at Patrick and Blythe through your eyelashes, anticipating their judgment.

And there was judgment. The two students are quirking their brow at Caleb. Like he had just done something unusual but not something unexpected. Caleb doesn't appear bothered by the exasperation coming from his friends.

"You brought your wallet, didn't you? Don't worry about it. Me and you are sharing a bill."

"Caleb, my chicken sandwich was like double the price of your salad. That's not fair at all. I'll pay for my own meal."

"Shush. You came all this way just to pay me a visit. Eat whatever you want. I'll take care of it." Under the table, his foot nudges yours.

Maybe you let a little too loose tonight. In your defense, there was alcohol at every corner in this place. You weren't even able to take a bathroom break without someone stuttering drunk shoving an old, warm beer bottle into your hands.

Places like these were not your scene.

"Caleb's coming? When's he gonna be here?"

Forget whatever you were just talking about. Tara's words from earlier had suddenly clicks in your mind. She called Caleb to come pick you up. That must be why you gave her your phone.

Right now, what you want more than anything is to be at Caleb's side. With the music making your head pound, sweaty bodies brushing past you, and the puke bubbling in your empty, acid filled stomach, you want your safe space to come save you from this madness.

Ignoring the fact Caleb might be a little upset with you for not letting him know you were going out drinking tonight. It hadn't seemed important earlier when you thought you were going to a regular bar. Your mistake was when you neglected to give your location. Or pick up your phone the entire time you've been out.

Whatever. You'll accept the consequences of a disappointed Caleb. As long as he brings you back home to an actual bed.

He won't leave you alone when he's upset. He would never abandon you. Somewhere deep in your soul you know it to be true.

"You never told me he lives in Skyhaven. I was ready to find someone else in your contacts to come. But he seemed pretty insistent about being the one to pick you up. He said it would be thirty minutes tops."

Tara's mouth twists into a thoughtful frown.

"It's pretty late. There aren't going to be many trains running at this time. How is he sure he'll be here that fast?"

"He's Caleb. Caleb always finds a way." Or rather, Caleb owns a personal aircraft he can use as he pleases. But you don't feel like opening up that can of worms to Tara right now.

The playlist shuffles to another song. The bass thrumming through the radio shakes you down to your skeleton. Idly, you wonder how many times the owner of this house has received noise complaints from his neighbors.

Whoever was behind this stupid party is incredibly lucky they don't live anywhere near you. You put up with enough in your day to day life. One thing you would not tolerate is your neighbors blasting music at two in the morning.

Leaning your heavy head against Tara's shoulder, you try to let the world go quiet around you.

"Hey. Wake up."

Ah, there he is. The person you've been waiting for. The warmth of his large hand seeps through the strap of your dress. He's gentle as he shakes you awake.

It's a fight to peel your heavy eyes open, trying to regain control of your blurry vision. The world has been spinning around you for hours now. You kept your eyes closed, blocking out the dizziness to the best of your ability. But now, you have something you really want to look at.

"Hm. My hero."

The tension in Caleb's face is highlighted by the glittery lights strobing on the ceiling. Tara's call must have really worried him. It hadn't even taken him half an hour to fly all the way from Skyhaven to this strange, rundown property that neither of you will be setting foot on again.

It was probably just the alcohol. But the lighting makes it look like there's a halo floating over Caleb's head. Weirdly, you don't question it. It feels fitting. Like it's always been there, hidden from view.

Your drunken mind accepts Caleb's angelic appearance. Just as quickly as you accept it you're already moving on. Your body didn't have the energy to keep up with all these divulging trains of thoughts.

The worry creasing Caleb's face stutters. His purple eyes widen when his ears pick up on that single, precious word.

Hero.

"Silly girl."

He shouldn't take you seriously right now, he reminds himself. Your friend told him over the phone just how much you've had to drink tonight. You were bound to say pointless, silly things you didn't truly mean in such a state.

Caleb could replay that short moment over in his mind later when you're safe. This worry that's been building in his chest since he picked up the phone will only go away once he sees you tucked into bed, snuggled under the blanket like a sleepy kitten after drinking too much milk.

He'll think of how relieved you appeared when your eyes landed on him. How happy you looked just because he showed up. How that voice he loves so much called him your hero.

Some other time. Right now, all Caleb wants to have you home with him. These people were all too careless around you. He has to get you away from them.

Your slumped position doesn't cause him inconvenience. The booze had already convinced you that you've suddenly become weightless. You feel light as a feather as your large boyfriend sweeps you into his loving arms.

"I'll get her home safely. Thank you for calling me. And for looking after her."

Only half paying attention, Caleb bids Tara farewell with a grateful nod. It's unfair how easy it is for him to be charming. Everyone in your life is drawn like a moth to a flame with your Caleb. Yes, you should be grateful that your friends get along so well with your boyfriend.

Telling yourself that doesn't make it easier.

"Bye Tara..." Not wanting to leave without saying goodbye, no matter how sleepy you are, you lift your hand to give Tara a weak wave.

"Bye! Make sure to take it easy tomorrow, okay?"

"Mhm. I will." As if Caleb would let you do anything but have an easy day. You're a little afraid he might put you on a twenty-four hour lockdown for being so reckless.

Keeping you safe in his arms, Caleb starts to weave through the dancing, mindless drunkards stumbling all around the room. With your head leaning against his chest you're able to catch strong whiffs of Caleb's familiar cologne. The cologne manages to protect your nostrils from the pungent, musty stench you've been suffering for hours.

"Oh, life is worth living again."

The comforting embrace of freedom comes in the form of a cool night breeze, tickling along your flushed cheeks. Caleb pushes the front door open with his foot, releasing you from that hell disguised as a fun time. Even if it isn't enough to sober you, it's certainly an improvement in environment.

"I figured you'd be warm. I kept it cool in my aircraft on my way here. You'll be comfortable."

Caleb carries you a good distance before the two of you arrive at his personal vehicle. The craft was far too large for the humble parking lots of Linkon or the narrow street of the party house. It was best to keep something like that tucked out of the public eye anyway. He's careful as he sets your limp body in the passenger seat. He does the work of buckling you up.

A while ago, you noticed Caleb doesn't have a matching seat belt installed into his own seat. You haven't asked him. There was no point in answering when part of you already knows he built a buckle on the passenger just for you.

"Open your eyes for a sec, pip. I have some water for you." Carefully prying your fingers out of their clenched position, exposing the sticky sweat clinging to your palms, he passes you a cup. One of those fancy cups that can keep your drinks cold for hours.

"Drink up. We're not going home until you've had at least half the cup. I also have refills if you get thirsty on the way home."

"You filled the cup to the brim. Can't I just drink a third of it then we go?"

"Nope."

"You're the worst."

Wrapping your lips around the straw, you do your best to take slow, easy sips. Water probably won't make you anymore nauseous than you currently are. But it never hurts to be careful.

"Yup. Turns out I'm not a hero at all. I'm an evil monster who makes sure this little flower stays hydrated."

Caleb's hand reaches out, looming ominously over your head. For a second you're convinced he's about to tousle your sweaty hair.

You should start giving him more credit. Instead of worsening the matted tangles already beginning to form on your scalp he brushes away the strands sticking in front of your eyes.

"I drank half."

"Did you?"

Caleb's eyes drift to the cup in your hand. He's not able to see inside of it. But he can hear the water sloshing on the inside when you shake the bottle, proudly showing him that yes, you were actually behaving.

You've had a decent amount, even if it wasn't exactly half.

"Good job." Temporarily satisfied with your easy obedience, Caleb quits crowding your space. Checking to make sure you're properly buckled one last time, he makes his way over to the driver's seat.

The aircraft thrums as it lifts off of the ground. Less than a decade ago Caleb was happy to earn his first car through long hours of work, through blood sweat and tears. He's been the designated driver since that day, letting you tag along in the passenger seat nearly every time.

It was odd how much life can change in such short amounts of time.

Flying like this with Caleb had made you dizzy the first few times. But after so many times sitting in this seat, it feels no different than taking a ride in a car.

The trip home, the home in Skyhaven that was slowly becoming yours, was mercifully quiet for the first few minutes. Caleb must sense that the worst headache of your life is starting to creep up on you. It's starting to tickle around the edges around your skull, warning you of what's to come.

Whether you would survive tomorrow morning's hangover was up in the air.

"What were you doing at a place like that anyways?"

Nevermind. Caleb was an inconsiderate jerk who would scold you hangover or no hangover. This was just the beginning stage of the healthy dose of disappointment heading your way.

"Tara invited me. I thought we were just gonna go to a bar."

"Your friend from work? She brought you there?"

"Don't be mad at Tara, Caleb. I wasn't in any danger. Everyone at the party was just really rowdy. I'm fine."

"And what if you hadn't been?"

Caleb never raises his voice. Never escalates these rare arguments that barely pop up in your relationship. It's only the arguments regarding your safety that ever manage to grow tense.

His voice is level, his posture remains calm. But you see as his worn hands begin to squeeze the life out of the poor wheel.

Caleb rarely gets angry. But Caleb is afraid. All of the time.

"You didn't even text to tell me you were going out tonight. Did you check your phone at all? You should know the kind of people who go to parties like that. If something had happened to you, it could have been hours before I knew anything was wrong. I'm not trying to insult your friend. But I don't trust her to keep you safe like I can."

Caleb has a habit of making you feel like a child. His care for your safety is always so sincere. Sure, he could be controlling, possessive too. And he keeps your best interest in his heart through it all.

"Caleb? I'm really, really sorry."

Caleb has the power to tell when you give him fake crocodile tear apologies and when you give him true, honest atonements. You truly mean this apology. Arguments with Caleb used to drag on for days at a time all because you refused to let go of your pride and just say sorry. Even when most of those times you had been totally in the wrong.

You were both adults now. Your relationship was only just beginning to blossom. You aren't willing to trample over this budding seedling because you couldn't let go of your childish stubbornness.

"That... Was unusually fast. Are you sure you don't have something else you need to tell me?"

"No. I just know that I was wrong. And you deserve an apology. So, I'm sorry Caleb."

Leaning forward, the seat belt tightening slightly around your chest, you try to catch his gaze. He's been staring out of the windshield this whole time. Even though there clearly wasn't any traffic in the open sky.

"Drunk words are sober thoughts, right? Ask me anything. I want to start being honest."

You can nearly see the thoughts running wild through Caleb's head. It never used to be this easy to get you to agree with him. Clearly, your easy apology has caught your boyfriend off guard.

But the offer you've laid willingly at his feet is too enticing to ignore. His white knuckle grip on the steering wheel begins to ease.

"How are you feeling?"

"Really, Caleb? I said you could ask me anything you want. Why is that what you want to know?"

"Because you said you would answer honestly. I want to know."

One of his hands departs from the wheel. It finds its way onto your thigh, as it always does when you're his passenger princess. He's only waited this long to touch you this way tonight because you needed to have this conversation.

"How are you feeling? Tell me, please."

"Honestly? I don't know if I've ever felt worse. I haven't gotten this drunk since college. I want to puke my guts out, dig my own grave, and crawl into the ground for the next hundred years."

"Hmph." Caleb's hand delicately squeezes your thigh through your wrinkled skirt.

"I can't offer you a grave. Can I offer a long night of sleeping together in bed instead?"

"Not quite the same. But I suppose I can settle." Sighing for dramatics, you tilt your tired, heavy body to the side. You don't realize how nearly all of your weight was being supported by Caleb. He was bearing the majority of the burden, as he usually does.

"One more question. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better before we get home?" The atmosphere gets a little less playful when Caleb asks you this. Seeing you like this, drunk out of your mind, worn to the bone, pulls on the heartstrings that only respond to you.

"Hm... There's one thing. Say 'I forgive you, baby.' I'll feel all better again."

What a little trickster Caleb had raised. Your ready apology earlier was almost successful in convincing him that you've matured. Turns out, you were still an annoying little kid at heart.

Spoiled. You've been taking advantage of this weakness of his since you had met. You'll be worming your way out of trouble for a long time yet.

Bear with me:

We are given little-to-no information about Legolas’ background in canon. The only thing we know for sure is that his father, Thranduil, was originally from Doriath and has been ruling Mirkwood since his own father, Oropher, died of his own poor tactical thinking in the War of the Last Alliance.

But what if we know nothing about Legolas' background because no one in Middle Earth has any idea either?

Just imagine it:

After the War of Wrath, Oropher led his people into the Greenwood and established himself as king over the local population. However this came about, "The few Sindar who had come with him were soon merged with the Silvan Elves, adopting their customs and language and taking names of Silvan form and style. Oropher and his household wished to return to a simple existence natural to the Elves before they had been disturbed by the Valar" [x].

I'm not quite sure what Silvan elves got up to before Greenwood became Mirkwood, but I imagine it involved a lot of frolicking and hunting in the woods, and generally living up to the stereotype forest-dwelling immortal spirits at one with nature. And Thranduil, being the prince of this realm, would be naturally be the best of them all.

I imagine this catches the eye of one of the more minor Maiar sometime in the Second Age - a hunter in Oromë's retinue, most likely, but someone in Vána's retinue could possibly work too.

Thranduil strikes up a relationship with this Maia whenever she passes through, because unlike Melian a hunter of Oromë wouldn't be content to stay in one bounded woods when there are things to hunt across Arda and Aman. It is the epitome of a long-distance relationship.

Key to all of this is that Thranduil never tells anyone her identity. Oh, he very obviously is in a relationship and will disappear for weeks at a time throughout the Second Age to be with his wife, but no one ever meets her - or, as they assume she's just some Silvan elf with no interest in being princess or queen, admits to being her.

Thranduil goes off with his father to fight in the War of the Last Alliance. Unlike his father, he lives and returns to the Greenwood as king of his people.

Shortly after he returns, his Maiar wife presents him with baby!Legolas to raise and rejoins Oromë's hunt. Depending on his actual age when given to Thranduil, Legolas may even have some youthful memories of hunts he spent on the back of his mother's horse and/or of hunts in Aman.

Their relationship continues much as before, and though she makes the effort to be more present for Legolas' benefit it's dealer's choice whether she's successful at it. Maybe as a Maia of the hunt she's not good with children and is able to salvage her relationship with her son when he gets old enough to spend all his days hunting too; maybe she's a really good mother despite her frequent absences and the family dynamics just work for everyone. Who knows?

Legolas' mother is only a minor Maia, and so he's not quite as extra as Lúthien. He's noted for being the best hunter of his age - but most assume that's down to genetics, because of his father's legendary skill, and because of a lifetime of practice, because Mirkwood is Mirkwood.

And, honestly, a Mirkwood filled with spiders to hunt is probably all a half-Maia elf could ever want, particularly when their Maia parent is a huntress of Oromë.

The events of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings go as in canon, with the exception of Galadriel saying that she cannot give Legolas a better bow than his mother made for him, and so granting him a different gift. This prompts several questions about Legolas' mother, particularly when Aragorn admits that not even Elrond knows her identity.

The hobbits responsible for The Red Book of Westmarch never learn the truth.

But, as I'm an inveterate Legolas/Gimli stan, Legolas admits the truth to Gimli sometime after that relationship forms - maybe Legolas' mother shows up at some point while they're in Ithilien to check up on her son after the war ends and the truth comes out; maybe it comes out when Legolas is trying to reassure Gimli theirs wouldn't be the most unusual marriage in the family - but no one else ever learns the truth.

It's Legolas' Maia heritage that allows Gimli to sail with him to Aman - either his mother requests it as a boon from the Valar for her son, or something about his ancestry allows him to grant others access.

Bonuses include: 1) Everything that might point to Legolas' Maia heritage is written off as elfish weirdness by non-elves, Silvan weirdness by non-Silvan elves, and Sinda weirdness by Silvan elves; 2) Despite all this, Legolas talks about his mother a lot and so by the breaking of the Fellowship everyone has this idea that his mother is the Greatest Hunter Ever To Live; and 3) the question of just who Thranduil is married to being a big source of betting and speculation for elves, and all the elves the Fellowship encounters try to use them to get the inside track.

And that's it. As always, feel free to adopt this plot bunny, just link back to me if you do anything with it.

Other Legolas Headcanons: First Age | Second Age | Third Age | Half-Maia | Half-Elven

Just imagine it:

I love the idea of Oropher, his wife, and Thranduil were apprentices of Melian before the Fall of Doriath - it would certainly explain how Thranduil held Mirkwood against the darkness without a ring of power - and the idea of Celeborn’s mother being Oropher’s sister, so that remains the same as in my First Age headcanon.

By pushing back Legolas' date of birth, however, we allow for the possibility that his mother was a Silvan elf and that her marriage to Thranduil was almost as big a scandal as Galadriel, a Noldo, marrying Celeborn, a Sinda.

Here I like the idea of giving him two older brothers, born sometime between 1000-2500 SA, with Legolas being born in 3319 SA as Númenor sank beneath the waves. He's very much the baby of the family.

When the War of the Last Alliance started in 3429, Legolas was left behind to rule the Greenwood as regent while his parents,  grandparents, older brothers, and nearly every one else in the kingdom went to fight. Barely an adult by the standards of elves, he managed admirably, though he would be the first to admit that ruling a barely populated kingdom whose overriding mission was sending supplies to the front is much different from ruling that same in peacetime. (For some reason my mind montages this as an elvish Wartime Farm.)

Legolas loses his mother, grandparents, and eldest brother to the war. His father comes back king and grief-stricken. His middle brother, now heir, battles both grief and PTSD and, though he tries to stay in Arda for his remaining family, he sails for Aman no later than 1000 TA.

So Legolas and Thranduil are all that’s left of their family by 1050 TA, as darkness settles over the Greenwood.

Legolas here is not a the elvish veteran of many great battles, as in the First Age headcanon, but instead a veteran of the battles of the home front - there is something very WWII Britain about this take on Legolas' background in my mind. His battles are all of survival, of keeping the home fires burning so that others may march off to war, of defending the borders, of mend and make do, of keep calm and carry on; of loss and privation and the shadow of war, but not war itself.

The events of The Hobbit go according to canon - by which I mean instead of the movie nonsense Legolas was, IDK, left at home to rule again or on his way to Rivendell and missed crossing paths with the Company because they fell down the Goblin's front door. Anything but the movie canon.

The events of LotR go mostly according to canon as well, though a lot of the focus is on Legolas finally confronting war as much as death for the first time. This Legolas has seen war take much of his family and irrevocably change those who managed to come back. He knows all too well that even if he survives this, he may end up having to sail west like his middle brother because of what he sees, and has absolutely no idea how to cope with any of it.

Naturally there is Legolas/Gimli, because they are my original OTP. Here I imagine Legolas gets hit by a clue 2x4 fairly early on and it's Gimli that's hesitant because 1) he doesn't understand that elves only love once, 2) thinks its nothing more than an infatuation brought on by high emotions which will pass once they get home, and 3) even if the feelings are true, he doesn't want to tie an immortal elf to a mortal dwarfish lifespan.

Bonuses include: 1) at least one heart-wrenching conversation between Legolas and Eowyn, mostly involving Legolas sharing his own memories of being the person who has to remain behind while everyone he loves marches off to war and death; 2) exasperated but deeply invested Aragorn playing increasingly-less-reluctant yenta; and 3) a surprisingly supportive Thranduil, who doesn't care who or what Legolas loves so long as his son is happy and not taking any more road trips to Mordor.

As always, feel free to adopt, just link back if you do anything with it.

Other Legolas Headcanons: First Age | Second Age | Third Age | Half-Maia | Half-Elven

When cuddling he will spontaneously kiss your neck, and introduce soft tongue flutters over your skin that break up your words

Snores but very softly, almost like purrs when you're laying on his chest

Moves around a lot in his sleep and takes you with him most of the time because he just does not want to let go of you, you're his pillow, his cuddle buddy

When he can't sleep due to stress he likes to listen to your breathing and your heart beat

Loves it when you play with his hair while cuddling

A good head massage will put him right to sleep in your lap

Super clingy in his sleep, you're not even getting up to pee without waking him up

Even if you do he will sleepily follow you and wait for you while leaning against the door, his eyes barely open