#legolas fluff

He was aware of their rashness. Their impatience. Has witnessed their fierceness in battle, fuelled by an undying loyalty to return to those they love. He knows that a human requires a good night’s rest lest they crumble with exhaustion and irritability. And as he has grown to know you he has learned that humans also respond well to hugs, so it is necessary to give as many hugs as one is able to. And they prefer to be held while they sleep, at least you do. 

He has slain creatures quadruple his size with nary a hair out of place. Trekked tirelessly through every season in their most unforgiving conditions. He’s turned battles into a game for tracking kill counts to best his comrades in jest, radiant with valour as he wipes his blade clean. And yet, the common cold of a human, his human, has brought an uncomfortable unease that leaves him weak in the knees. 

And so, you can’t fault him for his level of concern throughout your week of sickness. Though you tried, unwise and unsuccessfully, to downplay the early onset of your symptoms that first morning you awoke with a dreadful thirst on your tongue, your throat a scorched desert. Blaming the air from the changing seasons for your sniffles, a warm cup of tea glued to your hand. In the height of your foolishness you forgot the sharp awareness of elves. His ability to register the unexplained heaviness to your footfalls and your unusual breathlessness would not go unnoticed. The nail in the coffin was when he stood at the foot of your bed, watching with a furrowed brow as you slept like a rock before the sun began her descent into darkness. 

You watch him now through your bleary vision, take in the sight of the ten shades of fear that flash in his eyes. His hand cups your warmed cheek, pleading.

“I’m fine.” you say once more, voice rasped and suppressing an incoming coughing fit in exchange for his relief. You sniffle, blow your nose into a cloth. Propriety had taken its dying breath long into the night as your cold hit its peak. In your delirious haze you vaguely recall sneezing into his chest, and so this morning you blow unabashedly into the cloth. In the process you continue to avoid his penetrating gaze, unable to take in the sight of his perpetual frown without giggling. “It’ll be gone by the week's passing.” 

“You are certain?” He interjects cautiously. 

You nod. He remains unconvinced. So you explain to him, for the third time, the essence of a human cold. The details of its symptoms and averaging lifespan. Emphasize its general harmlessness and ensure its inability to cause you to disintegrate into a puff of smoke (for obvious reasons, this doesn’t amuse him in the slightest). 

Ironically this all falls on deaf ears, and as the day goes on he continues to monitor you like a patient in critical condition, delicately spoon feeding you a hearty stew and handles you like glass while palming your forehead hourly. 

His concern throughout the days following the genesis of your cold would be adorable if you weren’t knee deep in handkerchiefs and bedridden with exhaustion. Were it any other circumstance you’d swoon at the sight. Truly. You’ve resisted the urge to swat away his hands that offer to carry you each rising moment. But after he made it apparent last night through hushed whisperings, spoken under the impression that you’d finally fallen asleep, that he’s bound to your side until the sun’s fire extinguishes, you’ve grown to appreciate this coddling side of him. There is no stone left unturned with the Prince and his devotion to you, his beloved. So, he has taken the role of your caregiver with honour, hypervigilance and all. 

The sun sets a warm, tranquil glow that filters through the sheer curtains. You rest in his arms like a kitten on his chest, surrounded by a fortress of pillows. He hums softly, drags languid strokes up and down your back. Tomorrow he’ll serve you tea and honey, prepare your favourite soup, and braid your hair the way you like it. But for now, time is but a mere concept of man’s making. All that exists is this tender stillness. With you, mumbling in his embrace with your eyes shut and him, brushing your hair out of your face and pressing his lips to your head. 

"Perhaps... we shall return to the others?" He asks, though makes no attempt to move his heavy feet, nor tear his eyes away from the very intimate problem you faced.

"And set our eyes upon their evil little grins?" You counter.

"Mischief, perhaps, may be their intention. Vengeance, however, shall be our own."

"Noted. That does not, however, solve our current... predicament." You gesture loosely to the elephant in the room. Daringly, you tear your eyes away from the single, and only bed in the inn's small room, to settle onto your traveling companion.

Your ridiculously handsome travel companion. Who looked as though he was struggling to pass a rather large bowel movement at the moment.

"I shall have no problem taking the floor." Legolas reassured. (You couldn't tell if he was informing you, or himself.)

"A nice thought... if there were any floor space." You countered again, eyes sweeping over the incredibly cramped space.

"Rather peculiar decorating indeed, hm?" He weakly offers.

"Mm." You blinked once. Twice. "Well. I suppose that is our only option then. The keeper did affirm the lack of vacancy."

With a curt nod, Legolas cleared the room in two measly strides, beginning to unfasten his weaponry while allowing you the privacy and space to disrobe. Your brain had begun to feel fizzy at the encroaching anxiety, fingers fumbling in their effort to untie your outerwear.

The two of you quietly prepared for bed, not a creak sounding about the room aside from the clinking of assorted steels.

After several terse moments that left you standing in your undergown and stockings, you reluctantly spun around to face the very object of your ire. Stupid, dreadful bed.

"Listen," Legolas began, sounding so suddenly serious you nearly tripped trying to turn and face him. His eyes stared down so intensely into your own even from across the room it was nearly impossible not to drown yourself in them. "We have both slept on far colder ground, with far more bothersome company. This shall not be what upends us."

"You speak as if the company is the problem." No doubt he could hear the racing of your heart, though his eyes flicked down to follow your tongue as it ran across your dry lips.

"Never, not your company." His response slipped from his lips so quickly you hardly had time to dwell on your doubts.

"Then what is it?" You reply, voice merely a strained whisper. Legolas' throat bobs, before he takes a steadying breath and walks around the bed, standing before you.

"For centuries we have danced around each other, yet you still remain unsure of my intentions?" He questions, large hands rising to grab hold of your shoulders. "Tis not the company, meleth nin, but the proximity."

"Proximity?" You weakly question, leaning into his hold.

"Proximity, which leads to temptation." His hands begin to wander, sliding first down your bare arms, before circling around your waist. Legolas pulls you closer, breath fanning over your lips.

"Temptation? You?" You respond, voice lacking the bite in which you initially intended. "You flinch every time I near, yet you wish me to believe you are tempted?"

"And nothing short of it. For three centuries I have been made to gaze upon that which has beauty like no other, yet never permitted to touch it."

"You speak as if I am some sort of relic. Only to be seen from afar, never to be touched nor held." Your fingers curl into the neck of his tunic, his skin impossibly soft beneath your fingers.

"Not a relic, but a flame. One I feared to touch, lest I be entirely consumed." His nose brushes against your own, hands sprawling across your back. "Your heart is racing. You shall tell me if this is unwelcome."

"Legolas, you fool, it is most welcome."

His lips, at last, find yours, not urgent but reverent as he presses into you, every facet of his being melting into yours. For several blissful moments you remain in his embrace, lost in the enchantment as his lips move against your own, growing in fervor the longer they meet. Your hands press further, further along his neck, his jaw, his pointed ears, until they settle into his hair, ensuring his station with their grip.

"You have me, meleth nin, as you always have." Legolas murmurs against your mouth, hand rising from your back to caress your jaw, cool touch sending shivers about your spine.

"And you shall not lose me."

Thranduil

-Listen- Thranduil is hard to reach, he’s a tough nut to crack as one may say, and he is quite distrustful of strangers, but this is not a scenario where you’re a stranger to him, oh no. 

-While you have caught the interest of the elven king and as his knowledge is ever so deep on both elven customs and that of man, he can’t say he has ever indulged in the human customs quite so much. You sort of make him want to indulge in it all. 

-Thranduil is not the one to hastily discard his public image and reputation for the sake of a fleeting touch of fingers or a graze of your lips across his cheek in a farewell bidding, yet seeing you do so with your company with which you travel with makes him think.

-For a mind that has seen so many centuries and so many faces, you have made him feel as if the memories of friends of old and strangers came before his eyes only in preparation to see you. Quite weird, but it is what his mind makes him think. Were you sent to his path for a reason?

-And where do you get your boldness from, to try and touch him so easily? What makes you think that is proper? When have you become so brazen when just yesterday you seemed to struggle with speaking to him formally? 

-He does request your company alone from time to time, walks through the woods and dinnertime especially, and this opens way for more privacy and attempts at intimacy.

-Here, you’d find him more forgiving at accepting your advances

-He is still getting used to the feel which your hands leave behind after gripping his own hand or his arm, or the tug at his sleeve the poke of your fingers at his side - yet he wouldn’t trade it for anything else. It’s such a small change in his life, but it feels surreal to experience it all the same when he is so used to the generally the same routine and schedule, especially in his relations with others. 

-At the end of the journey of your outing, he’d return the gestures with one of his own, one a bit more subtle than yours, but he makes sure his kisses on your knuckles linger

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Legolas

-Humans are touchy, yes, Legolas has witnessed much of this displayed affection since he departed Mirkwood for his journeys, but what he felt when he saw all of it wasn’t shock or disgust like some of his peers felt when they saw these “crude and hasty customs” - rather he felt some longing instead, a yearning.

-He craves a close connection too, but he is hopeless in seeking it out in the world of mortals and he is a bit without a clue on how to develop such a closeness with someone. He wasn’t raised in a place where emotions are foreign, but as established before - human and elven customs do differ, and they both perceive emotions and displays of it differently. You can say Legolas fits a bit more into whatever human ways are of expressing emotions. Firm hand holds and tight hugs instead of brush of fingers and longing looks during long periods of courting. Man, Legolas just craves a strong friendship, let alone a relationship

-I think it would be safe to say Legolas is touch-starved in his own right, simply put

-So when you come along, and you both click as companions? He is quite happy to put it lightly. I don’t think there is an adequate term that can summarize his elven giddiness when he simply sees you being openly affectionate with your friends, he feels a sense of belonging since you are not a stranger he observed, but someone he has come to understand too. He knows your name, your story, what you do and don’t like

-Yet this doesn’t prepare him for when you show the same affection to him as well. Suddenly all lectures and elven courting rules and traditions come pouring in his head all within a blink of an eye and it is the first time you have seen him look so taken aback. 

-He doesn’t reject your advances however, he’s much more accepting of them than his father, and it is just you and your shared small company, sometimes not even them, that get to see this exchange. He is.. giddy, quite happy.

-It feels fulfilling sharing in the affections, although he is much more reserved than you by quite a lot - he tries though. He’d still absolutely love it if you accepted his proposal of courting, so he can court you properly and as you deserve. Please let him he is on the edge of his seat, he is about to fall off waiting

-Despite what he feels and how human his smiles and expressions have become since you began to pay him this attention, he is patient, he moves at a slower pace than you and he is your grounding rock when you become too hasty

-It is not a rare sight to see him draping his cloak around you, or - at your request - see him sitting next to you huddled under the same cloak or a blanket by the fire. Coziest he has ever been tbh…

-In some summary - your hands are held gently, your brows are kissed tenderly and you are well taken care of with him around

-(Please send me more Legolas thoughts or requests I love my bbg sm)

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Lindir

-Now this one is a little more dense. Denser than the Elven King? I hear you ask, and I say to you - possibly.

-Now, correct me if I am wrong, but he isn’t exactly too old, by elvish standards of course. He is relatively young by their norms, and has spent a lot of his time in Rivendell, serving Lord Elrond

-A very personal headcanon, take it or leave it, but he is even younger than Legolas.

-Anyhow, Lindir is quite dutiful in his work and doesn’t accept it comfortably when new energies are introduced to his environment. He can get quite skittish and tense when things aren’t going according to some mental plan he has set out in his mind, or even worse - if the events aren’t following a plan shared by him and the others. He is very keen on sticking to this familiarity of routine and stagnancy, in some way.

-So, note his surprise when you stick around and worm your way into his daily schedule.

-For a long while he swore to himself up and down how he will never get used to you, perhaps if you grew as old as he then he might, but your life was a flicker in comparison to his own

-He is even more surprised and confused when he sees himself looking for too long at you sharing hugs with your friends, bidding them goodbye and safe travels by kissing them hard on the forehead and trying to..wrestle them? What an odd thing to do to your friends..

-He is more baffled when you attempt to do the same to him. How could you?!

-He is an elf, an elf with standards!

-An elf with standards which you break through anyway since you’re so..infectious. Lindir had the funny thought, although it was a bit unsettling to him at the moment, that he was sick or fading/dying.

-In the days and months following, it took much effort to finally see the fruit of your labor. Lindir was finally, although still slowly, opening up to just spending more time with you instead of going by his strict routine that he played on repeat.

-He doesn’t sit three feet away from you anymore, but rather two and a half.. Not literally, of course, but the distance between you seems like it is miles with the way he sometimes acted in the beginning of these outings with you.

-The distance surely shrinks until he is actually next to you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he traces a small scar there which you claim you earned in your childhood. By elvish standards, humans are nowhere near perfection, but his thoughts have begun to change, and he no longer sees perfection in the standards he was raised with, but rather he sees it in you. Each little thing that separates you from another, and little by little he begins to sow you into his memory.

-He isn’t the best at remembering mortal souls, they all pass by quickly, but you linger and linger and he doesn’t want you to not linger. Linger with him by the fountain, will you? Let him ask you questions to distract himself from the fact your hand embraced his?

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After many seasons apart, duty finally brought you back together. It was a reunion marked by warm smiles and a quick rekindling of your lifelong friendship. Eager to make the most of this reunion you both decided to embark on a patrol through some of the darker much less traveled parts of Mirkwood. These regions were where the trees grew dense, and the shadows lingered. They were known for being unpredictable, yet they offered a serene beauty that was unmatched elsewhere in the kingdom.

As you walked alongside Legolas, your steps silent and your senses alert, you found comfort in the familiar presence of your friend. The air was filled with the sounds of distant waterfalls and the occasional call of a wood pigeon. Conversation flowed easily between you. It was filled with stories of past exploits and shared adventures. It was as if no time had passed at all, and you were just two young elves exploring the woods as you had all those hundreds of years ago.

Yet, the peace of the forest was deceptive and as seasoned warriors both of you remained vigilant. It was a routine patrol on the surface but in Mirkwood with the darkness ever growing one could never be too careful. Little did you know the shadows held more than just the whispers of ancient trees that day.

In the shadow-drenched depths of Mirkwood where the dense canopy stifled even the slightest beam of sunlight you and Legolas moved with the silent grace of seasoned warriors. The forest's deceptive calm should have been your first warning, but you were so engrossed in his presence you didn’t think too much of it. It was a heavy stillness that shrouded the advance of danger. It was in this eerie silence that the ambush was sprung as a large band of orcs burst from their hidden positions among the twisted undergrowth.

In the midst of the intense and chaotic battle with the clash of metal resounding through the ancient trees of Mirkwood a sudden, jarring sound made your heart skip a beat. It was the distinct twang of a bowstring. A sound you’d recognize anywhere amidst the close-quarters combat that it sent a ripple of alarm through you.

You and Legolas were back-to-back and fighting in seamless coordination Legolas's breath hitched audibly, a rare sign of his alarm. His voice was urgent and tinged with a touch of panic as it reached your ears over the din of battle.

"Y/N, the leader, he's aiming for—"

Before he could finish you saw the movement. A shadowy figure at a distance with a notched arrow gleaming with a sinister sheen that could only mean poison. Time seemed to slow as you realized the target was none other than Legolas himself.

With a surge of adrenaline, you acted on pure instinct. "Legolas, down!" you shouted pushing him towards the ground even as you leaped to intercept the flight path of the arrow.

Legolas who was forced down by your push hit the forest floor hard. He turned just in time to see your actions. "No, Y/N!" His voice was laced with horror and desperation as he realized what you were about to do.

The arrow struck and the sound of your grunt of pain was drowned out by Legolas's anguished yell. He scrambled to his feet eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fury. "Why would you do this?" he bellowed. His voice cracking with a mix of horror and desperation. His eyes were wide with shock and nearing tears. They searched yours for an answer he could not find in the chaos of his own emotions.

As you staggered from the impact the world began to blur at the edges as the poison was already coursing through your veins. With what strength you had left you managed to whisper, trying to reassure him despite the growing darkness clouding your vision. "Had to... save you. Watch out... he has more..."

Legolas was now beside himself with worry and rage. He turned his attention back to the orc leader with a fierce glare. His usual calm demeanor was shattered by the sight of you injured because of him. He drew his own arrow with a swift, deadly precision that was uncharacteristic but fueled by his tumultuous emotions. "No one harms you and escapes unscathed," he murmured almost to himself as he prepared to return the favor with lethal intent.

What followed was a blur of motion and violence. Legolas moved like a tempest. His arrows finding their marks with lethal precision. Each strike was a blow against his own anguish, a defiance of the fate that had struck you down. The orcs fell one by one. They were no match for the wrath of a prince fighting for the life of a friend he so dearly loved.

As the last of the orcs crumpled to the forest floor, silenced forever, Legolas turned back to where you lay, your face pale and your breaths shallow. He knelt beside you, his hands shaking as he gently lifted you into his arms. The forest seemed to hold its breath. The usual whispers of the leaves stilled by the gravity of the moment.

Legolas's steps were swift and sure as he began the urgent journey back to the healers. Each step was a race against the relentless creep of the poison within you. As he moved with his arms secure around you he began to whisper. His voice a soft contrast to the earlier fury that had consumed him.

"Stay with me," he murmured. His words tinged with a desperation he had never known. "You must stay with me." His voice broke as the reality of the situation pressed upon him. The weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm his stoic facade.

The forest blurred past as Legolas with you cradled securely in his arms. He pushed through the undergrowth with an urgency born of sheer desperation. The poison from the orc’s arrow was relentless and with each labored breath you took his heart clenched tighter.

As he hurried his voice was a steady stream of encouragement meant to fortify both your spirits and his own resolve. “You’re so strong. You can fight this,” he urged quietly. His tone gentle yet firm. The dense foliage seemed to part before his determination. The shadows of Mirkwood bending to his will.

“You have to hold on. I need you to hold on,” he continued. His voice only for you. A personal warmth amidst the encroaching darkness of your pain. His words were a lifeline thrown in the hope that your spirit would grasp it and cling to life.

Within his mind a storm of thoughts raged. As he looked down at your face contorted with the effort to stay conscious he was struck by a revelation so profound it rooted itself deep within his soul. I love her, he realized with startling clarity. The thought was both a balm and a torment emerging amidst the terror of possibly losing you. Why did it take the brink of losing her to see how vital she is to me? His heart ached with the weight of his newfound understanding. An understanding that came at such a cruel cost.

Meanwhile, you, despite the searing pain, felt the urgency in his voice and it gave you a focus. A point to anchor your fading strength. You tried to respond. To give him some sign that you heard him. That you were fighting not just for your own life, but for him, for the future you hadn't yet considered might be possible together. Your lips moved slightly as a whisper of sound that was more an exhale of pain than coherent words.

Legolas felt the faint stir of your attempt to speak and it spurred him on. His strides growing even more determined. “Just a little farther,” he promised you, and perhaps himself. “We’re almost there. Stay with me.”

His mind continued to race with thoughts of love and loss, but he kept these revelations locked within choosing instead to flood you with hopeful, encouraging words. Every step was a silent vow. Every heartbeat a silent plea to whatever fates watched over the elves of Mirkwood.

As the gates of the palace finally came into sighta surge of tentative relief washed over him. The guards recognized the dire nature of your condition and rushed to meet him calling for the healers swiftly. Legolas’s arms relinquished you with a reluctance that was palpable. His hands lingering until the last possible moment as he handed you over to their care.

Watching the guards swiftly carry you away Legolas could only stand there for a moment, alone and suddenly bereft. The depth of his emotions swirling chaotically within. Hold on, please hold on, he thought. His heart echoing each word of encouragement he had given you. Now a silent mantra for the both of you.

In the somber halls of the Mirkwood palace, Thranduil arrived, drawn by the urgent whispers of his guards about an incident involving his son and one of his most valued elves. As he entered his eyes found Legolas who stood alone. His posture betraying a mix of shock and despair rarely seen on the prince.

Approaching quietly Thranduil placed a hand on Legolas’s shoulder, his presence immediately steadying. "Legolas, tell me what has happened," he urged. His voice firm yet lined with concern.

Legolas's response was choked. A surge of emotions breaking through his usually composed demeanor. Turning to face his father, tears welled in his eye. It was a terribly rare sight that shook Thranduil to his core. "She... she saved me," Legolas stammered. The words laced with pain and guilt. "An orc aimed a poisoned arrow at me, and she stepped in front. She took the hit herself. It should have been me, Father."

The king's eyes widened in horror as he processed the gravity of the situation. His mind racing with the implications of your selfless act. "Legolas," Thranduil said softly as he guided his son to sit beside him on a nearby bench, an effort to offer comfort amidst the cold stone surroundings. "You must not blame yourself for her bravery. She acted out of loyalty and courage. These are qualities that are to be honored, not lamented."

Legolas wiped at his eyes, struggling to compose himself. "But I love her, Father. And now, I might lose her because I could not protect her," he confessed. The words tumbling out amidst sobs. The admission of his feelings which were spoken aloud for the first time seemed to both relieve and burden him further.

Thranduil was taken aback by the depth of his son’s emotions. He reached out, his own composure tinged with empathy. "My son, love is both a strength and a vulnerability. You must hold onto the hope that she will recover. And should she wake, it is your duty—and your right—to tell her of your feelings."

The king stood, resolute. "I will speak with the healers to ensure that everything possible is being done," he promised. Returning his attention to Legolas, he added, "Stay strong, Legolas. She fought to save you. Now you must be strong for her."

Thranduil placed a reassuring hand on Legolas's shoulder. His gaze intense and commanding. "There is something you can do, Legolas. Go to her," he instructed firmly. "The healers say that even in unconsciousness the presence of someone familiar may be felt. Your presence could provide the strength she needs to fight this poison."

Legolas looked at his father. The determination in Thranduil's voice sparking a flicker of hope within him. "Talk to her, hold her hand, let her feel your presence. Keep her grounded to this world. Your voice, your touch… it may reach her when our medicine cannot."

Rising from the bench with renewed purpose Legolas nodded solemnly. "I will not leave her side," he vowed. The resolve in his voice masking the tremor of his underlying fear.

Thranduil watched as his son strode towards the healers quarters. His posture that of a prince, yet driven by the raw, powerful emotions of an elf in love. "She saved you for a reason, Legolas. Now, give her a reason to return," Thranduil murmured to himself as he watched Legolas disappear behind the delicate curtains that shrouded the healing chambers.

Inside, Legolas approached your side with his heart pounding as he took in your serene yet pained expression. Gingerly, he took your hand in his. The coolness of your skin against his warm palm stirring a mix of emotions within him. Sitting beside you he began to speak his voice soft but clear threading through the quiet hum of the healing ward.

"I'm here just like you've always been there for me. Remember the storms we weathered together? The quiet moments we shared under the stars of our beautiful Mirkwood? Hold onto those memories now as I hold onto your hand. You must come back to us, to me," Legolas whispered. His words a tender plea laced with strength and love.

As he continued to speak he recounted tales of their past adventures and shared dreams. Legolas's presence became a silent, steadfast hope, anchoring you in the fight against the darkness that threatened to claim you.

"Remember the time we chased the fireflies at dusk?" Legolas continued. His voice a soft murmur meant only for you. "We wandered so far that night we almost missed the evening banquet. Your laughter echoed through the woods, brighter even than the lights we chased. I think that was the moment I realized how dear you were to me though I never had the courage to say it. I wish I said it."

He paused. His thumb gently stroking the back of your hand, each memory a pull trying to guide you back. "And then there was the storm. The one that caught us off guard near the northern border. We took shelter under that old oak. The one that's stood for a thousand years. You were so calm, so brave, even as the thunder roared around us. It was more than bravery. It was a peace within you that even the storm couldn't disturb. I truly fell in love with you then."

His voice grew softer, each word laden with emotion. "I've always admired that about you—your strength, your serenity. It's been a constant source of comfort to me, more often than you know." A sigh escaped him, a mixture of admiration and deep-seated fear. "I need that strength now, more than ever. You have to fight through this. I... I can't envision a world without you in it mellon vaer nîn, meleth nîn." He whispered to you.

Legolas's gaze lingered on your face. His eyes tracing the familiar features as if trying to imprint them deeper into his memory. "There are so many things I still want to share with you. The sunrise over the Silverlode. Quiet mornings in the glades. So many adventures yet to be had. I need you to come back to me."

As he continued to speak recalling tales of their past his voice became your lifeline, tethered to the hope of your recovery. With each story he tried to weave you back to consciousness. To draw you away from the shadows that clung too closely.

Hours passed, a silent vigil marked only by the rhythm of his voice and the faint but steady beat of your heart. It was during one such tale as Legolas recounted a particularly daring escapade from their youth that he felt a gentle squeeze on his hand. It was slight, nearly imperceptible, but to Legolas, it was as profound as the sun breaking through a week of rain.

His heart leapt and his words faltered for a moment. "Are you there? Can you hear me?" he asked. His voice a blend of hope and urgency. When there was no further response he settled back with a small, hopeful smile touching his lips. "I'll keep talking… just keep listening. You're not alone." Legolas's resolve hardened, bolstered by the faint sign of your fighting spirit. He continued to talk. Each word a pledge of his presence and protection. His stories a bridge carrying you back from the brink.

The healing ward was bathed in the soft, ethereal light of dawn filtering through the high windows. Legolas sat steadfast by your side with his hand still holding yours as a silent anchor in the hushed space. He continued to speak with his voice a soft, continuous presence in the hushed space continuously recounting tales, and shared dreams. He was weaving a tapestry of memories meant to guide you back.

As he recounted a particularly fond memory of a midsummer festival where you both had danced under the stars until the world seemed nothing more than a swirl of lights and laughter your eyelids began to flutter. It was a slight movement but enough to pause the flow of his words.

Your eyes slowly opened as they adjusted to the dim light of the room, focusing with effort on the figure who had not left your side. Legolas watched you carefully. His breath held in a mixture of hope and anxiety. Seeing your eyes finally meet his, a wave of relief and joy washed over him, though he tempered his reaction. The last thing he wanted was to overwhelm you.

"You're awake," he said softly. His voice a mix of wonder and warmth, his grip on your hand tightening gently.

You managed a weak smile. Your voice barely a whisper but filled with gratitude and warmth. "Legolas..." you breathed, your eyes locking onto his conveying everything you felt but couldn't yet say.

He leaned closer with his forehead nearly touching yours. His eyes were bright with emotion. "You are home," he whispered as his voice trembled slightly. "You're here with me. That is all that matters."

You nodded weakly, your smile widening just a bit. "Home," you agreed softly, the word holding so much more than its simple meaning. It was a promise, a recognition of the bond that had brought you back from the brink.

Legolas brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. His touch ever so gentle and reverent. "I was so afraid of losing you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your bravery, your sacrifice... I cannot bear the thought of a world without you in it."

Your hand squeezed his lightly. A small gesture but one that conveyed strength and reassurance. "I'm here," you whispered back, the effort taxing but necessary. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"We have so much more to see together. So many more memories to share," Legolas continued with a smile playing on his lips. "I promise from now on every moment will be a testament to the life you fought so hard to return to."

Your smile widened a bit more, your energy still faint but growing with every moment of connection. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world," you replied. Your voice was stronger this time, filled with the promise of many tomorrows.

In that quiet evening with the last light painting the world in hues of pink and gold, Legolas and you shared a moment of profound gratitude and love. A bond deepened by trials and now unbreakable by anything that the future might hold.

As your strength slowly returned Legolas took you to a secluded glade one evening. A hidden sanctuary where the world's concerns seemed to dissolve under the brilliance of the starlit sky. The air was cool and carried the sweet scent of blooming night flowers. You both settled on a soft blanket surrounded by the tranquil whisper of the forest.

Looking up at the stars Legolas turned toward you, his blue eyes reflecting the celestial light. He took a deep breath as if preparing to share something significant, and then began to speak. His voice soft yet clear. "I've spent many nights under these stars," he said, "but none felt as profound as tonight, being here with you." He paused giving you a moment to absorb the words. "When you were hurt, when I thought I might lose you, I realized something vital. Just how much you mean to me, how deeply I care about you."

Your heart fluttered with a mixture of surprise and joy. The sincerity in his voice and the earnest look in his eyes it was all you had ever hoped for yet never dared to expect. "Legolas, I...," you started your emotions thickening your voice. "I've felt the same way for a long time. But I never thought—"

"That we might have a future together?" Legolas interjected gently. "I know. I've been a fool, letting time pass without speaking my heart. But I don't want to hide my feelings anymore. I love you. More than I can say."

Tears welled in your eyes but not from sadness but from a profound relief and happiness. "I love you too," you replied. Your voice a soft echo of his own declaration. "I always have."

Legolas reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek with a gentle touch. "Then let us make a promise tonight," he suggested. His gaze locked with yours, "to never hold back our feelings. To cherish each moment, we have together and to face whatever comes with unity and strength."

You nodded, feeling the weight and warmth of his hand in yours. "I promise," you said. "To all of that."

The night deepened around you, but in the glade, illuminated by starlight, a new chapter of your life together began. It was a promise made not just in words but in the shared glances, the gentle touches, and the quiet commitment to face life's complexities together. With Legolas by your side the future seemed not just a path to walk but a journey to cherish.

The next morning, with the promise of the previous night still fresh and luminous like the dawn Legolas sought his father in the tranquil palace gardens. Dappled sunlight filtered through the ancient trees casting golden patterns on the mossy floor.

"Father," Legolas began with his voice carrying a newfound confidence mixed with joy, "last night under the stars, Y/N and I made a promise. I wish to ask her to let me court her with the intention of marriage."

Thranduil paused with his gaze piercing as he turned to face his son. For a moment his expression was unreadable. Then, a wide, genuine smile transformed his face. "Finally," he exclaimed with a rare chuckle. "You have truly found your path, my son. It is about time."

Legolas smiled, a weight lifting from his shoulders with his father's blessing. Bolstered by this support he planned a special moment to formally begin the courtship. He chose a small, exquisite pendant shaped like a star. An echo of the night that had sealed your shared destiny.

Later that day as you stood in the lush Mirkwood gardens Legolas approached you. The late afternoon sun lit the clearing casting long shadows and bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. In his hand he held the delicate star-shaped pendant which sparkled as it caught the light.

"Y/N," he said gently, drawing your attention. His hand extended offering the pendant to you. "Last night, under the starlight, we promised to face whatever comes together. With all my heart, I ask you now, will you let me court you with the hope and intention that one day you will be my wife?"

The moment was overwhelming. More tears sprang to your eyes as the magnitude of what this meant filled you. You had loved Legolas for so long, sometimes fearing your affection was a solitary flame. Now hearing his heartfelt words, confirming that he felt the same, was a relief so profound that sobs of joy escaped you.

"Yes, Legolas," you managed to say between gentle sobs. Your voice thick with emotion as you reached out to take the pendant. "Yes, of course I will."

Legolas stepped closer. His eyes shining with the same emotion. He took the pendant and carefully clasped it around your neck. He cupped your face in his hands wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

"This is just the beginning meleth nîn," he whispered. His voice as tender as the touch of the evening breeze. "A promise of a lifetime together, filled with love and understanding."

In that enchanted moment with the beauty of Mirkwood surrounding you and the promise of a future together everything felt utterly perfect. The garden seemed to hold its breath, the leaves whispering in the wind, as if nature itself was acknowledging the depth of your bond. The journey ahead would indeed have challenges but with the strength of your love you knew you could face them with him.

The hour was yet veiled in shadow, long before Anor's light dared touch the sky. I stirred from slumber, only to find the place beside me empty, the warmth of his presence long gone. A quiet dread stirred in my chest—not of danger, but of distance. Wrapping the silken folds of my robe around me, I rose in silence, my feet whispering against the marble as I left our chambers.

The halls lay in a hush more profound than usual, the glow of the wall sconces barely holding back the darkness. The torches flickered low, casting long, uncertain shadows along the corridor. I walked unheard, unseen, as though I were part of the gloom itself. My heart guided me through the cold halls until I reached the throne room. It stood empty, vast and echoing. I let out a breath that rang louder than expected, filling the hollow space.

Disquiet tugged at me still. My steps led me past the meeting halls—the once seldom-used chamber where now generals gathered too often, the round table bearing the weight of war. It was deserted tonight, and silence lingered like a ghost. Finally, I came to the door of his study. I paused not to knock but let my presence slip in like mist through a cracked window.

He was there.

His head rose sharply at my entrance, surprise flashing in his sea-bright eyes. “My love,” he whispered, his voice a balm of sorrow and tenderness. He crossed the space to me, his hand reaching to tuck a wayward curl behind my ear, his palm cradling my cheek. “Is aught amiss? Did something disturb your rest?”

“Only your absence,” I murmured, my words softer than a breeze beneath starlight. I rose on my toes to brush my lips to his. He sighed, a weary sound, and drew me close, his brow resting gently against mine.

“I have tasks yet to tend, duties that cannot be delayed. But I promise, meleth-nin, it shall not be long before these burdens pass,” he whispered.

I reached up to run my fingers through his hair, finding it tangled and untamed. “You speak thus for the third night in succession, and still, I find our bed cold and your warmth afar. What chains hold you from me so tightly?”

He stepped back, a shadow crossing his fair features. He turned away, rubbing his temples, his back bowed beneath an unseen weight.

“Aragorn’s son is ill,” he said at last, voice hushed. “The Queen frets, and my friend believes the child safest under constant watch. I offered counsel and aid.”

I moved closer, crossing my arms, my tone now edged with disapproval. “Why conceal this from me? Arwen is like a sister to me. You know I would wish to help her, to ease her burden in this hour.”

He looked up, conflict flickering behind his gaze. “Because,” he said, stepping forward and placing a protective hand upon my abdomen, “I would not see our heir endangered. You carry my heart within you, and I could not risk fatigue or sorrow pressing too heavily upon you.”

My breath caught. His words held both affection and chains. I reached out, my fingers curling at his collar.

“You forget,” I said quietly, “that I have faced darkness at your side. Do not shield me as if I were glass. I would rather shatter beneath the truth than waste away in ignorance.”

He winced, guilt passing over his expression like a shadow upon moonlight. “You are no fragile thing, I know this. But I fear what I cannot fight—sickness, fate, grief. These foes wear no faces.”

I cupped his face gently, stroking his cheek with my thumb. “Then do not face them alone.”

He took in a breath, shaky, and rested his brow to mine once more. “Forgive me.”

“Only if you return to me,” I whispered, my voice threaded with need and love. I pressed my lips to his again, and he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down to my waist. In a single fluid motion, he guided me toward the desk behind him.

“Your wife missed you,” I murmured between kisses.

His lips curved against mine. “And I, her. Beyond measure.”

His fingers slipped beneath the robe, and in one reverent motion, he cast it from my shoulders. Cool air kissed my skin, followed swiftly by the warmth of his mouth upon the curve of my neck. I shivered, not from cold, but from the longing that had slumbered too long.

But as he lifted me to sit atop the desk, I placed a hand on his chest, halting him.

“Do you think this closeness shall mend what words have not?” I asked, not unkindly, but with searching in my voice.

He stilled. “No,” he answered honestly. “But it is where I remember how to begin.”

I studied him, the vulnerability behind the shield of his beauty. “Then speak to me first, Legolas Thranduilion. Speak plainly, not as a prince, but as a husband. Do you not trust me with your burdens?”

He exhaled. “I trust you more than all the stars that light the skies. But there is a part of me still caught in the whispering dark, where every loss echoes louder than hope. And I am ashamed that such a place yet lives in me.”

“And yet,” I said, “you are not alone. You never were. You carry burdens meant to be shared. Let me be the one who lightens them.”

He kissed my brow. “You are light in flesh, melethril-nin. I would be lost without you.”

This time, when he drew me to him, I did not resist. Our lips met in aching unity, and his hands cradled me as though he had been starved for my touch. I tangled my fingers in his hair, and he lifted me with strength that belied his weariness. The desk groaned beneath us, but the world outside could have vanished, and I would not have noticed.

Clothes fell like autumn leaves, forgotten and unnecessary. Our bodies found their rhythm, slow at first, as if relearning the sacred song of one another. He whispered to me in Elvish, endearments and promises flowing from his lips like a sacred chant.

When the final crescendo of our shared rapture subsided, I lay against him, our skin damp and flushed. He wrapped me in his arms, resting his chin atop my head, and we sat in the silence, bathed in the fading light of the lone candle.

“You will tell me things now,” I whispered.

“All things,” he replied.

“Even the ones that frighten you?”

“Especially those.”

And so we stayed, not as royalty nor as warriors, but simply as two souls who had found one another beneath the vast dome of the world, clinging to love as both refuge and fire.

Outside, the first blush of dawn kissed the horizon. But within those stone walls, it was spring once more.

“We’ve faced orcs, storms, and the weight of kingdoms,” I murmured with a sly smile, still curled in his arms, “but I daresay this is the first time we’ve risked your paperwork catching fire.”

He laughed softly, brushing my shoulder with his lips. “A scandal worthy of song,” he whispered, “but let us hope the ink dries before anyone comes searching for treaties.”

Hey there gentle readers,

At first i want to thank @atlastsomeonefinally because i enjoyed writing their request( I'll add to the spicy part and i will tell you when i do it)🫶🏼

I hope you are doing well, and you all take care of yourselves. Please comment your opinions, feedback is too important for a writer and always appreciated whether its good or bad🥰

If you want to see your prompt come to life do not hesitate to live a request, i may be a bit slow but it won't go unseen and unwritten:)

Until the next time take care of yourselves,

stiffly, he amended his words. "but for the sake of escaping discovery, i will yield." he had not realized how quickly what he thought to be teasing—which was brought about in the first place by the strange way he felt about you—had slipped into a harsher sarcasm.

he held his arm out for you to take, awkward at first, and quieted. the sudden surrender and unexpected flash of guilt in his features gave you pause, but you recovered quickly, joining arms and plastering that contented smile back on your lips. as the town square grew busier, you could only hope that, should anyone have been paying you any attention, it would have read only as a momentary lover's spat. it was bad enough that you presented as an abnormally handsome couple, even with legolas's most elvish features tucked behind a hood and drab, unremarkable clothing.

finally without so much spoken indignation (of which much less was actually ever felt by both parties), you mingled among the townsfolk, posing as kindly, clueless, and innocent travelers seeking food and shelter for the night. with more ease than predicted, you slipped into your roles, so sweet and charming that it was not difficult to gather information from those that you spoke with.