#legolas reader insert

ʚ And perhaps that hurt more than anything else, knowing that Legolas would never look at you in the same light that he regarded her. But, you held strong. Forcing down the agonising feeling and staying at his side even long after she took her own path; you did so right up until the present, where the new Fellowship of the Ring was formed. Albeit nervous, considering you promised the king to bring back his son after the delivery of the letter, you knew damn well he would have your head if you didn’t stick it out with Legolas and instead returned to Mirkwood. Which was one of the main reasons you decided to stay 

ʚ Don’t delude it, it wasn’t as if you held no regard for Legolas, but over the years. . . it started to become more of a challenge to simply swallow your feelings. It’s common knowledge that an elf can die of a broken heart and as your time at his side progressed, you felt as though you may indeed face such a devastating end. For no matter how hard you tried, it seemed that your heart continued to beat for him and the love that you held for him doubled, tripled, despite knowing it was something you could never have. Once you two returned to Mirkwood, you were planning on talking a miniature break, to distance yourself form him and focus on the well-being of yourself. However, with this newfound quest it seemed that your plans would have to wait 

ʚ So, with a heavy heart you decided to use this time to practice. Perhaps it would make it easier for when you eventually went home. Luckily for you, you found yourself getting along with a particular ranger who had recently made your acquaintance - Aragorn. You found yourself growing increasingly close to him at a surprisingly rapid rate throughout your quest and honestly? It kept you away from the desire of being at Legolas’ side at all times. It soothed the ache of your heart from having to distance yourself from him and made it slightly easier

ʚ However, what you didn’t anticipate, let alone notice, was the pair of eyes that always seemed to be on the two of you. Whilst you were so preoccupied growing closer to Aragorn, you can completely looked over the fact that something. . . Bothered Legolas. Of course, you saw him acting up a little, but you chalked it up to the nature of this journey you all found yourselves on. Little did you know that whilst you would play around and laugh with the ranger; Legolas watched with disdain. Since when was this a thing? He always thought it was you and him against the world; yet now everything was Aragorn. . . No, don’t tell him: did you fancy Aragorn? 

ʚ Contrary to your belief, you meant more to Legolas than a simple friend. As fate would have it, Legolas had fallen for you, but after the entire fiasco with Tauriel he decided to keep it hidden, in fear of not only rejection but possibly ruining a friendship he has had for centuries. Yet now. . . it seemed as though history was repeating itself. Did you have a thing for Aragorn? Is that why you grew so close to him all of a sudden? Was there a blooming romance? Were you in love with him?

ʚ It ate at Legolas alive and seeing the two of you constantly with one another did not make the situation better, especially when he noticed the growing distance between you and him. It only made him further believe that you were indeed, head over heels for this ranger. And soon? His disdain turned into something far greater. . . Jealousy. 

ʚ He couldn’t manage it. Seeing you with Aragorn all the time, laughing with Aragorn, just  Aragorn, Aragorn, Aragorn! It drove him up the wall far more than he would like to admit, And as time went on, the jealousy toiled and twisted, no matter how hard he tried to push it down. . . until one night during a little stop at an inn, he could take it no more. 

—

“Legolas — For goodness sake! Ow!” 

A whine breaks through the icy midnight air as you are unceremoniously tugged out of the inn by your prince in a manner you have yet to experience from him. Certainly, a circle of red would find your wrist by the time he decided to release it. 

“Must you handle me so gracelessly?’’ You huff, bringing the abused hand to your chest and facing the elf before you. Cerulean hues, once serene like that of a clear sky, now brimming with storm clouds. A swirl of emotions you could not pinpoint not decipher. Apart from one key fact: he was anything but happy. “What has you in such a foul mood?” You arch a brow, and rightfully so — for it was abnormal for Legolas of all people to hold such a conflicted look within his eyes. 

“Y/N. . .’’ The name falls from his lips in a tremble, a vexed one. “Why do you linger by his side at all times of the day?’’ Clenching his jaw, Legolas forces down as much bitterness in his tone as he can muster. “Why is it that he is suddenly the object of all your attention? I never see him without you and vice versa.” 

For a second you are confounded, caught off-guard not only by his out-of-character behaviour but also his words. “Aragorn?” The lightbulb clicks, yet only partially. “He is simply my friend, Legolas. Do you have a problem with me befriending -”

“I do when you act as though I am nonexistent.’’ He cuts you short, leaving you taken aback by the sudden. . . is that irritation in his tone? 

Legolas takes advantage of your silence and soon the minuscule surprise turns into a greater shock. “Everywhere we go, somehow, you always have to be at his side — talking and laughing with him as if it is just the two of you. He is the first person you look at after a joke, the first person you seek after slumber, in fact; he may indeed be the only person you look at throughout majority of the day! When we rest, you face him, when we venture, you are at his side. Has he become so important that the rest of us are invisible to you?”

It takes you a minute to both collect your words and process his. Has he truly been paying such close attention? By the looks of it, he was readying his tongue to list off the various other instances he’s noticed, so you swiftly chimed in. “Does it matter that much, Legolas?” 

And in that moment you were unsure whether such a question was deemed wise. For the second it met his ears, the storm within his sapphire hues roared on and twisted, practically displaying a mix of lightning and thunder; before you knew it, he found purchase on your shoulders and tugged you forward unceremoniously. 

“Are you that blind!?” With furrowed brows, he locks his gaze onto yours. “Can you not see why this affects me to such degree? Or is it that you simply don’t care? Rhaich! I am in love with you Y/N.’’ 

And if his words were not shock-inducing enough, then surely the feel of his lips pressed against yours a mere moment later was. 

Your heart altogether froze in beat, unmoving and as stiff as the rest of your body, for every muscle and fibre within you tensed all at once from the abrupt motion. Starstruck. That was the appropriate phrase. As time stood still you gaped with expansive eyes at the prince who. . . was kissing you. Who confessed to you. 

A thousand questions circled your mind. Did you hear correctly? Had you dazed out? Was this a dream — was Eru messing with you? 

If it wasn’t real then how did you feel him? If it was just a daze, why did his warmth radiate against both your body and mouth in such a comforting manner? No, it had to have been real, for the way he held, kissed you, felt unlike any dream your mind had ever conjured up. 

Yet just when you were hoisting yourself from the ocean of haze, the warmth fled.

As if sense kicked him square in the head, Legolas suddenly jolted back. Your immobility and frigid form prompted him to believe he had taken it a step too far. Fingers quake in their grip on your shoulder and panicked hues face you. “Y/N -” He starts, hold loosening on your form. “I — goheno nin, I wasn’t -” 

It’s your turn to cut him off as you reach out and haul him back in by the material of his cloak, leaving him the one to gape with enlarged eyes, albeit, for a shorter amount of time as his mind quickly registered the moment and allowed his body to ease as yours did. 

Legolas takes your waist on instinct, flushing you against him as you simultaneously loop a pair of arms around his neck, mewling with delight at the feel of him returning the kiss; ten times more passionate than the last. His kiss was gentle, lips impossibly soft, even more so than the countless times you imagined such an exchange. The warmth of his body against yours send a wave of delight up your spine and a flurry of butterflies to run wild within your chest as he somehow managed to pull you closer. 

And you begged, you prayed to ever divine being in existence that this was real. That you stood there beneath the mood with the man you have loved century after century, in his arms, sharing such a passionate moment of adoration, affection, love.

You part for but a second in need of air, only to be towed back in as one of his hands now caresses your cheek. It’s the contrast of both gentle touch and desperation of his ministrations. And with every time it broke the time apart was barely enough to ease the burning in your lungs — yet neither of you cared, for the feel of being apart for too long was more than either of you could bear for the given instant. As the decades, centuries — eons-worth of emotions poured into this single, time-stopping moment. 

Only when your knees felt weak, threatening to buck and when the sear in your chest became too much to bear, did the two of you at long last, part. He strayed not far away, as if afraid to lose you once more if he were to drawback but an inch more. Alternatively, you relished in the closeness, the lingering warmth as breaths mingled and eyes stared into one another oh so deeply. 

Silence, a comforting one at that, settled amongst the night. Or perhaps it was your own doing, for the sounds of crickets chirping and other midnight clatters were droned from your ears. All you heard was him, his heart — all you felt was him, all you saw was Legolas. 

After moments of hushed staring, a thumb rubs at your cheekbone and after clearing his throat, the elf murmurs: “I will take that. . . as a positive.’’ 

You cannot help but giggle at the soft pink scattered across his pale cheeks. “Yes,’’ bringing a hand up to his face, you return the gentle caress and lean up to touch his forehead with yours. “I love you, Legolas.’’ His breath hitches, bringing a smile to your lips. “It is something I’ve wanted to say for the longest time. . .’’ 

“It is something I have wanted to hear for eons.’’ 

Cerulean pools brim with everything you could have ever wanted. Adoration, devotion and most importantly. . . love. 

He loves you.

Legolas loves you.

Your heart somersaulted, singing to the heavens as it, at last, joined with his. And just as you are about to tug him back in for a second round of breathless kisses — a voice renders you both still. 

“I wondered when the two of you would get your heads out of the clouds.”

While you expected Legolas to loosen hold on you, you were pleasantly surprised when he instead pulled you closer. “. . . You knew?” He questions, all eyes now on the ranger who stands but a few feet away. 

“As if it was not obvious,’’ he chuckles, hands at his hips. “It’s about damn time.’’ Aragorn sighs, turning on heel and finding his way back into the inn. “Well, you two seem to be of good health. Do not let me stop whatever. . . that was.’’ Pertaining to the closeness of your forms and your hands which were buried in blonde locks, the ranger finds his way back from where he came. 

Cheeks burn in embarrassment so you seek refuge in the warmth of Legolas’ chest, deciding to ignore Aragorn’s little statement and instead focus on the feel of the elf’s arms around you.

And there you stayed, two hearts now one, under the glimmer of stars. You were his and he was yours. At long last.

Helm’s Deep had been brutal. Were it not for Gandalf and the Rohirrim, you doubted Aragorn and Théoden’s will would have lasted the night. Your heart had endured a lot, but the fear that was struck in you from the moment the battle began to the moment you saw that Legolas was alive and well, that was a feeling you wished you’d never have to experience again. 

He had promised — sworn to you — that he’d be back. That you’d get to see him again. You knew how elves kept their words to their dying breath. And you just hoped to the Valar that this wasn’t going to be the case. 

Lucky for you, it wasn’t. You had practically charged at him when you saw him afterwards, not even caring about the smeared blood and dirt on his face. He was alive. 

People were celebrating left and right, drinking ale and telling stories of lost loved ones. Some were thankful for the victory, choosing to look at the lighter side of events; one victory closer to defeating the shadow of the world. And some held trauma in their eyes — trauma that you strongly believed young children shouldn’t have to endure. 

And some people chose to have drinking competitions. 

“Is this a good idea? Gimli, I’m sure you’re aware of how the House or Oropher handles their liquor. Is this one you think you’re going to win?” you asked, seated across the table from the dwarf. Legolas, off to your left, held a small smile on his face as he stared at the barrel of ale. Honestly, you had no shred of doubt that he could drink the whole barrel and not feel a thing. And it would be ridiculously impressive to watch. 

Eomer chuckled from next to you, already ready to start pouring as much as he could for the two competitors across from him. Despite how awful his last few days had been, Eomer was in quite a chipper mood tonight. He had survived as well, with his uncle and sister here to celebrate with him too. 

“Bring it on, then,” Gimli ignored you, “I, tonight, am representing the pride of all dwarves.”

You turned to Eomer, giving him a small shrug. He gave you one back and grabbed two of the closest mugs he could find, pouring each of them a full glass of ale. 

Peering over at Legolas, you gave him a reassuring smile. It was really not the time to notice, but you scanned your eyes across his features. His eyes were soft, hair brushed and smooth. His silk robe caught the light of the dancing flames in the room, flickering and swirling in the movement of the crowd. He looked too perfect for someone who had just survived battle. 

“Alright, no pauses, no spills,” Eomer handed both men their drinks, leaning against the barrel next to you. 

You held back a chuckle as Legolas stared at his, raising an eyebrow. You knew he was used to his father’s fancy wine – in fact, Legolas probably grew up on wine – but ale? It wasn’t really his thing. He took a sniff from the cup and pursed his lips, probably already dreading this whole thing. 

“And no regurgitation!” Gimli muttered before he brought the drink to his lips and began to chug right away. The sounds he was making were quite gross, and you had to hold back a laugh at the foam that was already collecting on his beard.

“You’ve got this, Legolas,” you turned to the elf, who hadn’t taken a sip yet, “If you can slide down a staircase on a shield, I think you can beat a dwarf to a little drinking game.” You shot him a quick wink, and he let out a chuckle, bringing the cup closer to his lips. 

And with that, the game was on. 

The two of them were drinking at a nearly dizzying pace, and you had completely lost track of how long it had been or how many pints they had each gone through by now. People around you were gathering, laughing and raising their glasses whenever one of them would finish another. Eomer was kept rather occupied by the constant refilling, to the point where you could only really keep basic conversation. 

That was, until…

“Bets?” His voice was close to your ear as he handed Legolas another mug. The elf hesitated before taking another sip, eyes darting between you and the blond next to you before he continued going.

“Oh, Legolas, hands down,” you whispered back with a grin, turning to face him. He was now seated next to you, figuring he might be standing for a while before this whole thing was over. 

“Part of me thinks the Dwarf might win,” Eomer chuckled, now handing Gimli – who had just let out quite the burp – his next one, “I’ve heard tales of how the Erebor dwarves can drink wine-filled rivers and remain on their feet.”

“Hear, hear, it’s the Dwarves that go swimming with little, hairy women,” the dwarf chuckled to himself before downing his next pint. He seemed so out of it by now, you were shocked he was still standing. Or, sitting, technically. Maybe you’d win this bet. You had no clue where Eomer had heard his tales, but they were about to be proven wrong tonight. 

“Alright, it’s on, then,” you grinned to Eomer, bumping your shoulder against his. Gimli was soaked, drips of ale down his beard and foam across his face. His eyes were slightly crossed and he was belching like mad – how could he win? You faced Legolas, giving him a small thumbs up. The elf looked rather unfazed, not a single drop of ale on his chin and his posture still straight and proper. He didn’t even seem to be affected in the slightest.

You looked around at the table, each of them having nearly drunk ten full mugs by now. The difference between them was quite amusing. 

“I think I’m beginning to feel something,” Legolas’ soft voice caught your attention, snapping your eyes upwards, “A slight tingle in my fingers. I think it’s affecting me.” Nearly twelve refills down and he had just begun to start feeling it. 

Eomer’s eyebrows shot up at the elf’s words, and you let out a small laugh. 

“You really are something else, Legolas,” you were utterly disgusted by the whole situation, but the fact that he was bound to win made it seem a tad better. 

He didn’t reply, placing his now-empty mug down on the wooden tabletop instead. 

“Eh, what did I say?” Gimli belched out, finishing his own mug as well, “He can’t hold his liquor.”

And that was the last thing he said before his eyes rolled back into his head, his body falling backwards and off of his stool. The people who were watching erupted in laughter, clinking drinks together as if they, too, had made bets. 

“Game over,” Legolas gave a small shrug, not even bothering to take a sip of the newly filled ale that Eomer had poured. 

“Ha!” you stood up, nudging the Rohirrim warrior in the shoulder, “Now you owe me something.”

Eomer chuckled, placing his hands up in surrender, “A drink then, my lady?”

You turned to face the table, pointing to all of the empty mugs, “After watching that, I never want to smell, taste, or look at ale again,” you eyed Gimli’s unconscious body, “But maybe since you seemed to be so supportive of the dwarf, you can deal with taking care of him. That’ll be your end of the bet.”

He shook his head, letting out a laugh, “That, I can tell you, is not happening.”

“I can’t blame you there.” 

You felt a hand on your lower back, and you turned your attention over to Legolas, who had rather quickly made his way across the table to stand by your side. You weren’t sure why he was holding onto you, but you revelled in the feeling of his warm hand through the silk of your gown. Eowyn had lent it to you for the evening, and you shamefully almost didn’t want to give it back. It was rather lovely and comfortable.

“I guess I owe you congratulations, eh?” you grinned at him, trying your best to speak up over the growing voices around you. He was close to you, closer than you initially thought. And he looked so radiant, despite the smell of the liquor on his breath.

“And I owe you one of these,” Eomer interrupted your moment – bless him – and handed you a mug of ale. 

You gave a disgusted shake of your head and frowned, pushing your body against Legolas without meaning to, “Absolutely not.” The whole hall smelled of the alcohol and you were sure you’d find yourself nauseous if you took even a single sip.

“Are you sure?” Eomer asked again, raising an eyebrow before bringing the mug near his own lips. You let out a laugh, knowing he was only kidding around. 

Legolas’ hand gave your waist a squeeze, “I think she said she doesn’t want any.” Whatever tone of amusement he had held during his drinking game seemed to have vanished, and you were honestly clueless as to why he had sudden hostility.

Eomer held his hand up in surrender and took a sip of the drink, turning away once he heard the sound of someone shouting his name. You didn’t get the chance to say anything to him before he vanished in the crowd, causing you to turn to Legolas with furrowed eyebrows.

“I think you scared him away,” you narrowed your eyes, his hand no longer on your waist as you turned to face him, “He was only messing around, you didn’t have to stand up for me.”

Legolas seemed to have forgotten all about his drinking game and Gimli’s groaning body on the floor. His eyes scanned your face, and down to your hands where his own warm ones came to embrace yours. 

“I’ll always stand up for you,” he said softly, one of his fingers running along the back of your hand. You were thrown off by the way he was acting, but not in a bad way. Legolas had always been protective of you — extra caring around you. It was one of the reasons you had fallen stupidly hard for him. 

“And I really do appreciate that, you know I do,” you replied, giving a small tilt of your head, “But I highly doubt I need help with Eomer.”

He pursed his lips, eyes focused on your intertwined hands. He hadn’t looked at you and you were wondering what was going on in that pretty head of his. 

“Hey, Legolas, what’s wrong?” you nudged, one of your hands under his chin so he could finally face you. His eyes held no giveaway, still blue and gorgeous as ever. He was sometimes complicated to read — he’d speak in little riddles or he’d divert the topic to avoid expressing his feelings. You were usually the only one who could fully read him, but that was failing you right now. 

“It scares me sometimes,” he admitted, “The fact that I’m not the only one in the room who thinks you’re beautiful.”

You weren't sure what you were expecting him to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. Your breath stuttered in your chest as you blinked rapidly.

“What?” you were half expecting him to start laughing, to tell you he was playing a joke, “Do you actually think that?”

He nodded, the movement so subtle you almost missed it. Sure, the elf was hard to read sometimes, but you could tell with near certainty that he wasn’t jesting. 

“I don’t think you need to worry,” you broke the momentary silence, inching towards him and gently wrapping your arms around his neck, a new wave of confidence washing over you at his words. Legolas seemed to lean into the gesture — he may be nearly ancient in age but you of all people knew how touch-starved he was — and made sure he looked at you, “People can stare, or gawk, or offer invitations all they want. At the end of the night, there’s only one person who really catches my attention. And he happens to be tall, pointy eared, blond, and quite sharp with a bow.”

The tips of Legolas’s ears seemed to heat up as he gave you a wide grin. 

“Oh, and it’s not Haldir,” you chuckled as Legolas inched a tad closer, the space between the two of your bodies nearly non-existent. He was impossibly warm, which was odd. But it was hard not to be a few degrees warmer considering the amount of ale in his body combined with the fact that you were all in an enclosed, crowded space.

“You should have told me earlier,” he whispered, and you were able to hear him, as if the crowd around you had died off and vanished from earshot, “meleth-nîn.”

He almost sounded nervous saying the nickname, but did it ever send butterflies roaring in your chest. You felt as if they were fluttering up and down your legs, causing you to feel light on your feet. 

“I would have if I knew you felt the same,” you sighed, leaning into his hand which was now on your cheek. He was about to reply but he was cut off by a loud groan and the squeaking wood of the bench behind him. 

“Aye, aye,” Gimli began to sat up — in all honesty you nearly forgot he was there in the heat of the moment— and looked over at the two of you, “Aren’t you glad he drank all that ale? Thought the elf would never confess. You, over there, pay up.”

Eomer, who had previously vanished into the party, came back with a mug and a small bag of coins. You furrowed your eyebrows and glanced between the dwarf and the Rohirrim soldier, the two dots finally connecting.

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking,” you scoffed as Eomer handed Gimli the bag of coins, giving you a sheepish grin.

He shrugged, “It was obvious to all but you two. So, naturally, everyone placed bets.”

You thought back to the subtle hints Aragorn would throw your way, the jokes Gimli would make when you and Legolas would sit awfully close and whisper to one another, the hints Boromir would make about the different ways that elves show affection. It all made sense now. Of course they all knew. They were some of the wisest people in Middle Earth. And you were rather stupid.

Legolas let out a small laugh and clasped his hand on Eomer’s shoulder, “Forgive me. I had misunderstood your previous intentions.”

Eomer shook his head, “There is nothing to forgive. Believe me, I have seen a fair share of men follow in my sister’s steps, I can recognize a love-struck look when I see one.”

With a wink, Eomer tipped his drink in your direction and once again, disappeared into the crowd. He was no small man, so you were left wondering how his shape would leave your vision so quickly. He just kept coming and going.

“Well,” you turned to Legolas, “I suppose neither of us have been as sneaky with our feelings as we thought.” He nodded in agreement, the little smile never leaving his lips.

With a link of your hands, he pulled you close once more, “Would you do me the honour of accompanying me for a walk, meleth-nîn?”

You leaned up onto your tip toes, still feeling that new found confidence, and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, “I’d love nothing more.”

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You had a small scrape along your chin, and your hands were bandaged. He could see the bandages disappear underneath your sleeves. He wondered just how far they went up.

His eyes moved from your body to your head. Your hair flowed freely, as it blew softly in the breeze. It was uncommon to see you without braids or tight coils in your hair. He felt a slight flutter in his chest as you brushed the hair from your face.

"I heard you were injured." He said as he stood near you now.

You could hear the worry in his voice as his eyes continued to scan over you. You nodded, "Nothing serious. But I was knocked from my horse, and tumbled down a hill with an orc. I'll be fine." You reassured him, but you could still see the doubt in his eyes.

"I'm fine, Legolas." You said more bluntly as you smacked his leg playfully. You saw the serious facade begin to fall away as his lip quirked a bit.

He looked out at the trees, his own eyes scanning the treeline. You always likes coming out here. He wondered why he did not think of coming here first.

Movement from the corner of his eye caused him to look back at you. You were combing your fingers through your hair. He found himself admiring the pleasant color of your hair in the sunlight. You began to braid a strand of your hair, and he realized just how intently he was staring, so he forced himself to look away.

A moment passed before he heard a light hiss come from you, causing his eyes to snap back to you. Just as he did, he saw your face curled in discomfort as you tried to reach to the hair at the back of your head. You gave up with a soft grunt, as the braid you had attempted, fell apart.

"I thought you said you were fine." Legolas said, making you look up at him.

You could see the mix of amusement, and chastisement on his face. You simply tutted and rolled your eyes.

He smiled to himself as he turned towards you. "I can braid your hair for you-" He spoke before he really thought that he was saying, realizing so, as surprise flickered through your eyes "-I mean, only if you want." He was almost surprised at how skittish his voice almost sounded, he couldn't help but wonder if you could hear it.

Your face remained almost emotionless for a second, as Legolas waited. His heart began to hammer in his chest. Why did he offer to do that? No, he knew why. But did you?

"Alright." You said a moment later, your voice soft, almost shy, it caught Legolas off guard as you began to turn your body slightly away from him.

He thought he noticed a slight change in tint of your skin, were you blushing? He shook the thought away as he settled himself on a boulder stone behind you.

As he reached for your hair, he noted the heavy hammering of his heart. He slid his fingers underneath your hair, his fingers gently brushing along your neck. He thought he felt your shiver underneath his touch, but he acted as though he did not notice, but he smiled to himself.

You cursed yourself for being unable to control your body under his touch. It was just a brushing of his fingers against your skin, but your body seemed to tremble. Your stomach was full of butterflies as Legolas began to rake his fingers through your hair. The almost tickling sensation as he did so, caused your body to relax slightly.

Legolas wasn't surprised at how soft your hair was, he always thought it would be, it always looked like it would be. He noted the feeling in his hands as he began to braid a thick lock of hair.

You both sat in silence as he began to braid your hair together. As he did so, you could tell by the feeling that he was forming your hair into the multi-braid style you usually had it in. You smiled to yourself, you didn't know he had noticed it well enough to do it himself.

The tension was thick between you, but not uncomfortable. The intimacy Legolas' action seemed to convey, was a little alarming, but nothing either of you ran from.

Legolas took his time as he fixed your hair, silently wanting this moment to last as long as it could. But as the last band was tightened, Legolas reluctantly moved his hands away.

"Done." He said softly.

You turned around slightly to look at him. You had a soft smile on your face, and Legolas couldn't help the stammer of his heart.

"Thank you."

"Anytime." He responded.

You were caught staring at each other, as nether of you seemed to know how to break the tension. Finally, you cleared your throat lightly as you rose, causing Legolas to rise as well.

"I should get back." You said with an almost awkward smile.

Legolas nodded, "I will walk with you."

As you walked back toward the palace, your arms brushed occasionally as you walked closely together. There was a moment when your hand touched, and though neither of you knew it was mutual, there seemed to be a shock of electricity that buzzed through you.

It wasn't long before you were ready to split down another path to continue with your duties. You turned back to him and smiled brightly. "Thanks again Legolas." You said as you touched your hair.

"Of course." He smiled. "I-" He hesitated. Should he offer? "I-If, you happen to need it re-done, I would be happy to help, again."

You smiled lightly, trying hard to fight back a grin. "I might hold you to that. I think you may have done it better than I do."

He smiled in amusement as you began to back away. You spared him one more smiling glance before turning fully away from him. He watched you for a few moments as you faded from view.

Legolas smiled to himself, as his rubbed his fingers together, thinking once again of the softness of your hair in his hands. He wasn't quite sure yet, how to tell you his feelings. But he knew he was at least one step closer.

xx End xx

   The setting sun poked through gaps in the leafy tree branches and shed rays of golden light onto the forest floor.  One of the rays fell just inches from where a slender yet strong hand grasped yours as the other tenderly applied an ointment.  Your eyes traveled past the hand, up the sleeved arm, and gazed at the face of the one who tended to you.  It was framed by a curtain of blonde hair that draped over his shoulders.  His expression walked the line between concentration and concern, lips pressed firmly together as his eyes were trained on the task of wrapping your wounded hand.

   “Really, I am alright.  It is just a scrape.”

   Those blue eyes of his flickered up to meet your gaze briefly.  “You should be more careful.  It is no pleasure to see you in pain.”

   “I’m not in pain,” you said, though you were cut off by a wince as Legolas carefully closed the bandage.  “It is a minor injury.”

   His eyes softened at your reaction.  “Here.”  He gave your wrist a small kiss.  “All better.”

   You held up your hand, admiring his work, and smiled.  “Thank you.”

   Legolas mirrored your smile.  “Of course, meleth nin. “  He took your other hand and lifted you to your feet before gathering his bow from a nearby log.  “We should return shortly before night falls.”  Your eyes followed him as he started walking back toward Rivendell.  It wasn’t long until he realized you weren’t following.  Turning to face you at the top of a slope, his eyes found yours inquisitively.

   But you didn’t move an inch.  You merely smiled and watched as orange rays of the last light of day fell on his pearly skin.  Little fuzzy seeds floated in the warm, breezy air, surrounding the two of you.  It was a picture of serenity.

   “I find it fascinating that you happened to be on patrol in this direction,” you said.  “I distinctly remember you saying you’d be heading northeast today.”

   He chuckled softly, twining his fingers with yours.  “Perhaps I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

   “You believe in me so little?” you teased.  “You don’t think I can handle myself on a simple walk?”

   “On the contrary,” Legolas countered, lifting his brows.  “I do think you can handle yourself…So, imagine my surprise when I arrived to find you trudging through the woods clutching an injured hand.”

   Warmth flooded your cheeks at his point.  “It wasn’t that bad,” you muttered under your breath.  But of course, he always heard you loud and clear with his keen ears, so he chuckled again.  The sound made your heart flutter.

   To those on the outside, it was rather strange to see a prince of Mirkwood and a woman from a kingdom of men to be so familiar…But for you, it didn’t feel strange.  It felt comfortable.  Safe. Happy.  You were simply in love.

   As the two of you neared Imladris, the gentle notes of an elvish song could be heard once more.  Legolas gave your hand a squeeze, urging you onto the stone path that led straight to the entrance.  The golden sun sank behind the treeline, concealed from where you stood in the valley.  Before long, the sky fell into shades of darker blue.

   You separated from your mate to get changed into a gown for the evening rather than walk about in your outdoor wear.  The dress was pale green and silky soft, the sheer sleeves draped over your arms as light as air.  Legolas was waiting for you on a stone bridge, where the two of you usually met.  His eyes were focused on the starry sky before him as you approached.

   “It’s a beautiful evening,” you murmured, sliding an arm around his waist.  He reciprocated the gesture, his thumb and forefinger grasping a little bit of your dress material idly.  Being from Mirkwood, it was no surprise that he was still so enchanted by starlight.  Legolas met your eyes and smiled softly.

   “It is,” he agreed.  “And I am so glad to be sharing it with you.  You look lovely.”

   “Thank you.”  Your heart began a canter when he leaned in and pressed an affectionate kiss to your lips.  It was gentle and warm like embers.  Legolas had a tendency to be tender with you at first.  He really did believe in you and realized you could stand on your own two feet, but in the quiet moments between you, he still treated you with such care, as if you were some precious, delicate thing.  You weren’t weak and fragile- just very dear to him.

   You took it upon yourself to deepen the kiss, prompting him to lift a hand to touch the side of your face.  He brushed his lips against your temple and pulled away, keeping his arms around you.  Both of you gazed down into the silver reflection of the starry sky in the water below the bridge.

   The night had grown colder.  The air was like a fresh drink from a cool spring, and it was time for you to part ways.  Legolas gave you one last kiss, holding both your hands in his.  “Sleep well,” he whispered.

   “You too,” you murmured back.

   “I’ll only dream of you.”

   Your fingertips brushed one last time before you separated.  As you followed the mossy, stone path that led back to your quarters, you smiled.  Part of you was always sad when you had to retire for the evening, but Legolas’ seemingly endless patience was starting to rub off on you.  The inhabitants of Rivendell lived very differently than the people in your village.  Things moved slower, more peacefully.

   Crickets chirped outside your room, and a gentle breeze ruffled the curtains.  You changed into nightclothes and curled up under the covers, breathing in the sweet scents of spring flowers that began to sprout on the balcony.  You saw glimpses of Legolas’ face when you closed your eyes.  You saw golden sunlight.  Green leaves.  Glittering streams.

Learning on the Fellowship’s journey that you were pregnant with that no-good Brander’s child was shocking enough, let alone discovering at the actual birth that said little baby’s embryo had split into two, providing you with a set of beautiful daughters.

Fortunately, they were nothing alike their biological father in spirit — possessing kind hearts and noble souls instead. Even more fortunately, they garnered your looks. Regarding their appearances, although twins, they each held distinctive differences.

Perhaps the luckiest of all, your old Fellowship colleague, now turned husband, seemed to have the most influence on both Ivorwen and Tobrien — better known simply as “Ivy” and “Toby”.

Rabbit stew, a recipe sent from your Shire friends, was made for dinner that night, as the four of you sat around a wooden table and ate merrily, enjoying the lively atmosphere the warm candles provided.

“There is still hair on the meat!” Ivy insisted, though, the grin on her 9-year-old cheeks gave away her agenda.

“There is not!” Legolas urged back, sharing her grin.

You and Toby laughed brightly, passing a plate of rolls between one another. This argument had been going on since before any of you had even sat down.

Ivy made a show of stabbing a chunk of rabbit and holding it up. “Yes, there is! See? There’s hair on it! You’re a horrible cook after all!”

Legolas made a show of squinting his eyes and leaning across the table to inspect the chunk of rabbit, before settling back into his chair and pressing on.

“That’s most likely your own hair! How many times have I encouraged you to learn my version of braiding?” Legolas pointed out, gesturing to his own locks.

Your eyes crinkled with amusement and love, as you watched the dad and daughter exchange teasing words, even if none of those words were actually “dad”, “father” or even “ada”.

“You’re impossible, Varno,” Ivy shook her head, still smiling nonetheless. “Just admit your talent lies in hunting and not in cooking.”

“I resent that accusation,” Legolas playfully warned, pointing a fork at Ivy.

“Varno” was a name both you and Legolas had decided upon. “Ada” reminded him too much of his own father, and “uncle” simply felt too misplaced.

So, instead, “Varno” was decided upon — meaning “protector” in Legolas’ own language, which is exactly what he had been for you, ever since that fateful night by the campfire you’d learnt of your predicament.

Although many of your friends and colleagues that evening offered you their hand in marriage, you had felt a maternal stirring within you. Something told you to choose the best of the best for your unborn offspring, and who better than a steadfast elf to keep you safe?

You had been watching Legolas one night, a few evenings after learning of the life growing within you, with your hand over your stomach.

Although you still didn’t quite have the full comprehension of knowledge behind this, you truly believed, till this day, that both Ivy and Toby told you to “choose that one—he’s our dad”.

Resolute in your mind, you approached Legolas and accepted his offer of marriage. He was ecstatic and gleeful, and then a little boastful to the other suitors. Cockiness befell him for a short while, until your stomach grew and a paternal kick changed him.

He matured overnight and grew from a young archer into an awaiting father, despite the girls not being his. That never slowed him, though—he was a better father to Ivy and Toby than some real dads were to their own children.

He soon married you after the war, and the rest was history.

After you had to break Legolas and Ivy’s “fight” up with a laugh and a motherly warning, the table was cleared.

“All right, dishes to the kitchen, and then teeth,” Legolas announced, quirking a brow in Ivy’s direction as she walked past.

Legolas mouthed to her that their fight wasn’t over, and Ivy made a show of raising her brows once in challenge.

“She gets that from Gimli, I know it. Don’t ask me how,” Legolas whispered to you, as you too walked by.

“Intrusive visits and loud Yules,” you joked, grinning over your shoulder at your best friend.

Grimacing, Legolas winced his teeth with a hiss. “Do not speak of such holidays, let us just enjoy the autumn while it lasts.”

“You don’t want Yule to come soon?” Toby asked, appearing from behind Legolas, and peeking her head around his torso to gaze up in his direction. “What about toys?”

“Galadriel sends the best, and nothing has topped the bow she gave me in Lothlorien eight years ago,” Legolas replied. “Have you brushed your teeth yet, aranel?” (princess)

Toby made a prolonged noise, as she beamed brightly to show off her teeth.

“No, I don’t fall for pretty girls and pretty teeth, thank you very much,” said Legolas shaking his head. “Breath test.”

He bent down and allowed her to piggyback ride him. Standing swiftly, he looked over his shoulder and at her, where she then breathed loudly with an open mouth into his face.

Legolas scrunched his nose and recoiled. “Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell someone with stinky gums. And I’ve been to Mordor.”

Toby’s eyes grew bright with excitement. “Will you tell us another Fellowship story tonight?”

“Only if you brush your teeth,” Legolas answered, nuzzling his nose with hers.

Ivy walked past again, done with her dishes, and scoffed at Legolas. “Don’t listen to him, Toby. It’s bribery!”

Legolas gently kicked her ankle as she walked by, although, a feather could’ve done more damage—your “gentle giant”, you called him.

“Very well then, tonight I’ll tell you all about the Mouth of Sauron, and why brushing your teeth is important,” Legolas said again, turning around to watch the eldest twin head for the bathroom down the hall.

She waved him off over her shoulder, before disappearing to brush her teeth.

Toby swiftly kissed Legolas’ cheek, before dismounting from the piggyback ride and skipping after her sister.

You watched from the kitchen sink with a warm smile, and wiped a bowl with a dry rag. You observed the ardent love in Legolas’ eyes, as he watched the hall for a minute, where Toby and Ivy could be heard giggling over their dad’s cooking skills.

He finally shook his head and turned to you, wearing a content smile of his own. Catching your warm expression, he walked towards you with a sly question on his tongue.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you replied, returning to the dishes. “But have I ever thanked you for marrying me and helping me to raise those two ladies?”

“Ladies is a stretching term,” said Legolas, coming up behind you with a wrapping of your torso and a burying of his cheek in your hair, as he hugged you from behind, “but no—I don’t think the few thousand times is enough. Could you perhaps tell me once more?”

You melted into his hug, laughed like bright bells, and turned around. Wrapping your own arms around him, you buried your head into his shoulder and embraced him tightly.

“Well, thank you,” you emphasised, teasing him slightly.

Rocking the hug a little, he kissed the top of your head, and responded after a moment. “Actually, it is you all the thanks is owed to—I never assumed a life like this would be possible for me, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” you agreed, squeezing the hug once more.

You both stayed like that for a moment, before he kissed the top of your head again and let go. “You can ready the girls for bed if you’d like, I’ll finish up here.”

You lifted his hand and kissed the back of it, before walking away. Your hands remained held until the distance you walked grew too much, and Legolas had to let go to stay in front of the sink.

He smiled after you, as you disappeared around the wall.

Sighing in tranquillity, as the rain grew outside, Legolas looked out the glass window to his side. All he could make out were tree trunks through the rain and moonlight, and the prince basked in the sense of home for a few seconds.

However, the placid state could only last for so long. Unsure if the girls teasing him all day on their rabbit hunt had just worn him down, or if his eyes were indeed working correctly, a sway of trees exposed a trunk in the distance, where Legolas could have sworn he saw a body scaling.

Narrowing his eyes and knitting his brows, the archer moved closer to the glass window. As his breath fogged up the glass, Legolas moved as close as he dared to the window, observing the distant trunk.

Peering harder and harder, Legolas prayed for the wind to sway the leaves again, so he could view the tree. However, before he had the chance to do so, a quick voice from behind startled him.

“C’mon, Varno!” Toby urged, waving her dad to follow. “Me and Ivy are ready for the bedtime story!”

Legolas jumped on his feet, most unlike an elf indeed, and snapped his eyes over his shoulder to his daughter. Meeting her young gaze, he calmed.

Although, with the odd anomaly on the distant trunk still on his mind, Legolas turned back to the window. The leaves swayed again, and Legolas saw the tree once more. However, this time, no beings scaled the side of it.

He swallowed his nerves and shook his head, as his daughter called him once more.

“Varno?” Her voice was slow and unsure.

Meeting her eyes again, he beamed brightly and ran forwards. Scooping her loudly laughing self into his arms, he spun around and lifted her high—all whilst heading down the hall.

Toby’s laughs and Legolas’ eagle noises alerted you first, as they flew into the bedroom. “Eagle Attack” was a game he’d played with the girls since birth, where he’d lift them high, making them “fly”, and screech obnoxiously.

It usually ended with him gently throwing them down onto a bed or couch, in an effort to tire them out before slumber. Tonight, apparently, was no different.

“Aren’t we a little too old for Eagle Attack, Varno?” Ivy taunted, already sitting cross-legged on her bed, as you brushed her hair beside her.

“I’m over two thousand-years-old, and I still find it fun,” Legolas taunted back. He collapsed onto Toby’s bed with her backwards, leaving the younger twin a laughing mess.

“I do not think that tires them out as much as you believe,” you advised, shaking your head with a smile in your husband and daughter’s direction, who asked for the ride again.

“That’s why I have stories hidden up my sleeve,” Legolas replied. He sat up on his elbows, and smirked at you.

You gave him a playful frown, before finishing Ivy’s hair. Kissing your daughter’s cheek, you began tucking her in.

Legolas readied one candle, and dimmed all the other lanterns, so sleep would find the girls swiftly. Soon, as you tended to Ivy and he to Toby, Legolas’ story began.

It was one you remembered well, and one you also didn’t want to. You appreciated how comical Legolas delivered the story, in a way accessible to children, for there was nothing child-friendly about that war.

It wasn’t long after that, that soft snores from the girls filled the room.

Bringing the woollen blanket up to each daughter’s chin, and kissing their temples, you and Legolas bid them a soft goodnight from the door.

Closing it behind yourselves, you both began the small journey down the hall back to your shared room. He wrapped one arm around your back, and led you safely to the door.

Upon entering the room, you each made your way to your own beds. You had only shared a few kisses on the lips throughout your marriage, usually in times of great emotion, like the birth of your daughters, or the wedding itself.

Yours and Legolas’ marriage was almost entirely platonic, but he loved you more than any other, and you him. Only Ivy and Toby were counted among his other greatest loves, with you sitting safe right beside them.

Although nothing physical or lustful of nature took place between you, your relationship was one of deep devotion, and you had, in your own way, each pledged yourselves entirely to one another.

It was simply the most beautiful friendship, and one neither of you forsook.

Fluffing up your pillow, you rearranged your bed, which was only a metre away from Legolas’ own. He did the same, and hummed to himself slightly over the rain outside.

“This weather is a little intense, isn’t it?” you spoke up, looking at the roof above once in gesture.

He followed your gaze and agreed from behind his concerned frown. “I was almost worried earlier that the roof would collapse, with the leaves now falling and such.”

“For its seventh autumn, it isn’t doing too bad,” you decided, now sliding into bed.

“Agreed,” Legolas smiled, commending himself and his handiwork.

As he slipped into his own sheets, Legolas thought of what he saw earlier scaling the trunk. You were just about to reach over, wish your best friend a goodnight, before turning the candle out, until Legolas’ voice stopped you.

“Actually, meleth nîn—” he called, earning a blinking back of your eyes.

Conflicted over his own words, that same paternal feeling that kicked within him eight years ago drove his instincts. Sucking on his lower lip in thought, Legolas decided to trust whatever his gut was telling him, and lifted his blankets over to the side.

He beckoned you to slide into the covers with him. It was nothing unusual for you both, for many nights you had spent sleeping in the same bed with him. It first started in those early winter days, when your teeth chattered and your bones shivered.

His body warmth provided both solace and security, until you each grew so comfortable around one another that hugging in your sleep seemed as casual as a pat on the shoulder.

You almost went to tease him about being touch-starved or something of the likes, until you saw the look behind his eyes. They were the eyes of a concerned patriarch, and you knew better than to disagree with him.

After all, you knew to trust your own maternal instincts. His were no different.

Without saying a word, you slipped out from your bed and climbed into his, relishing in the warmth of his arms. He kissed the top of your head goodnight, before turning the candle off.

Only a small percentage of the fear within his stomach subsided, but he tried hard to fight it away. Nonetheless, the rain lulled him to sleep, where he then fell into a light slumber alongside you.

That is, until the bloodcurdling screaming of the girls started.

ʚ On that note he’s usually the one to do your hair in the morning. Whether he gets you late because he begins aweing at you and pressing pecks all over your face is another story 

ʚ Such a big cuddler, after a long day he comes back, scoops you up regardless of what you may doing and tosses you to the bed before getting in beside you and snuggling you up into his embrace 

ʚ Has a knack for wanting to play tag with you. He’s not sure whether it’s your laughing as you run away from him or what but it’s one of his favourite activities with you 

ʚ Legolas calls you by a lot of nicknames, most notably of which would be “darling’’, sometimes he may call you “loth nin’’ ( my flower ) 

ʚ There are times he has tried to teach you archery. He’ll loop his arms around you and guide your hands with his. However, he can be a little shit at times and try to throw you off just before you shoot by either tickling your sides or pressing a kiss to your cheek 

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“Hmm?” Without looking up you queer a hum at the newly-felt presence as you had crouched down below the counter to place the cloth in its bucket. “What can I get you tonight? Mead? Perhaps something stronger?” 

“Y/N?” 

Your breath hitches. 

That voice. One which mirrored that of a free-flowing stream, a gentle breeze throughout the forest, a carefree feel of summer’s warmth and glimmer. Your hand which held the edge of the counter coiled with fingers clawing at the wood. Such a soft melody, such a tender tone; sending your heart into a spiral of memories and eliciting a flurry of butterflies within your chest. 

Swallowing any tart taste on the back of your tongue and hoisting your form to resume an upright position, you peer over the wooden platform and meet sapphire pools. . . albeit nearly forgotten yet just as breathtaking. 

“Legolas?” 

The name felt foreign on your lips. When last had you called it? 

Ah, that is right. All those years ago, before him in the forest of Mirkwood. 

“Y/N,’’ he repeats, ever as breathless, almost as if he questioned whether he stood in reality itself; something you too were guilty of. Was he here? Was the one who stood and called your name. . . Legolas? 

Your mouth ran dry, words hiding and refusing to part from your throat as you stared at him starstruck. He dressed not in the attire you remembered, it appeared less dull. Had his hair grown? It now tickled below his biceps. But there was one thing that remained 一 those gorgeous, gorgeous pearls of cerulean. 

My, how you recalled losing yourself within them. 

And when a smile rose to his lips you swore to heavens the butterflies went wild. “Y/N, is it really you?” You bite back a denial, swallowing and forcing it to the pit of your stomach. Instead, you return his gleam. “. . . Has it been so long that you question your better judgement?” 

Bearing witness to his features now lit with the light of a thousand fireflies, bright and glowing, you take note of how he shifts and readies his form to rise from the seat and probably find his way around the counter. . . yet halts. As if an invisible force holds him in place, a realisation. Legolas’ abrupt movement simmered down into an awkward shift as he draws a breath and brings clasped hands to his lap. 

“How - How have you been?’’ 

The waver of his tone tells you everything and concurrently falters your smile. For the realisation hits you too, square in the face and straight to your heart which clenches in response to a dull ache. 

“Well, and yourself?” Like a fool you shove down the bellowing of your conscious, telling you 一 pleading with you to simply turn shoulder and ignore the face from the past. It warns you with great effort, blaring through your mind images of that fateful night in Mirkwood’s forest. Turn away, turn away, take your chance and run. 

And so, the only voice you disregard in the end is the very one that forewarned you. 

“A lot has occurred since our paths last crossed,’’ he chuckles with a dip of brows. “But let’s dwell on them not. It has been forever since you graced my presence.’’ Another waver that leaves an uncomfortable tightening in your chest. He told no lies, for it had been forever and a half since you found yourselves before one another. 

Silence settled between two hearts, droning on and blurring out all the noises of the tavern around. As if in that very moment the world around you froze with no one but Legolas before you. And for a second you contemplated whether you should listen to that voice, turn heel and walk away from the man you knew before. Just when you consider excusing yourself from the area, a request holds you in spot.

“Might you share a drink with me?” 

He struggles to meet your gaze for a moment or two, eventually finding it with gentle countenance. “I would love to catch up on lost time.’’ 

There goes your heart again, soaring within the clouds and singing to the heavens. Legolas, oh Legolas. . . he never seizes to bring back memories long forgotten nor feelings once buried with the dead. And when the lingering voice pleads once more to listen to your better judgement, you finally lock it away within the depths of your mind and allow yourself to fall into fantasies of yore. 

With faint curls of your lips, you accept his offer with a hushed of course, before finding your way to two cups and set them before him. “And what might the prince desire?” He rolls his eyes at your impish tone yet returns with a grin: “have you any elvish wine? I wish to see if your tolerance is still putrid.’’ 

You laugh, a warm, almost foreign sensation swelling the pit of your stomach 一 and for the first time in decades, you mirrored his grin. “Putrid? I’ll show you putrid.’’ 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ一

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The night faded with dawn’s glimmers and the darkness wavered in its final hours with bursts of faint purples and reds overtaking the sky hung over the tavern. With stars bidding their last farewells together with stumbling customers, hush settled throughout the building. 

Well, apart from the series of giggles and merry melodies of two hearts reconnecting at last. Having long abandoned your job for the night you now strode alongside the elf on the pathway not far from the tavern. Despite round after round of shots and glass-fulls, he remained upright, coordinated. Truly, a Mirkwood elf. 

“So you have deceived me majority of the night? Tell me, how did you replace the wine with water without my knowledge?” 

Legolas glares at your tittering explanations. “What? Did you think I would allow myself to become flat-out drunk?” Albeit a tad tipsy from the few cups you did drink, you managed to remain relatively sober throughout the course of the evening. 

“I have been fooled.” “A feat not so difficult to achieve.’’ You sneak a mischievous glance over and bite back a giggle at his offended expression. “Oh, is that so?” Responding with a simple nod you dismiss the jester and instead distract yourself with the calming allure of nature, the crowing rooster, the fading of crickets 一 so much so that you had completely overlooked just who you were dealing with. 

Rushes of air find your locks and you release a squeak of surprise at the abrupt pull of your waist by a strong grip. “Legolas 一’’ Eyes widen, a laugh echoing the skies as you push at cladded arms. 

“Legolas!” 

“Still just as ticklish, as I expected!” 

Squealing, you shove at his chest and thump your palms to shoulders in a desperate attempt to flee his tickling torture. You prompt nothing but the tightening loop of his arms around your waist whilst fingers delve at your sides, vigorously rubbing and prodding at the most sensitive of nerves. 

“L-Legolas 一 Legolas enough!” Tears threaten to prick your eyes and thrashes become far more laboured. “Enough? You have had enough?” He meets your glistening gaze with hues of teasing mien, never once letting up on his overwhelming torment. Leaning in, he drawls out with puckish linger: “If you beg and plead, ‘oh, Legolas the great, forgive this foolish girl!’ I may show mercy ~” 

“A-As if!” Fingers curl into the material of his clothes and, in your haze, you unintentionally hoist him closer rather than forcing him away. The result leaves you both face to face with barely an inch to spare; the of his nose brushes yours and in an instant 一 everything freezes. 

Hands once entrapping you in tickling hell now grew rigid and still as muscles tensed in unison. Breaths halted, eyes gaped, all whilst the world around you hitched in time and left you feeling as though only he remained. 

Warmth burned your cheeks as did pink overtake his and when you finally pulled yourself from the gorgeous pools of his sapphire gaze, sense flooded back in and battered your brain just enough to prompt a jerk of your form, keeping him at arm’s length. “Ah, sorry,’’ you chuckle in an endeavour to brush off the prior invasion of personal space. Yet just as you unhook fingers’ grip and begin to ease away 一 a pressure encircles your wrist and pulls you back in, further, closer. 

It takes you but a moment to realise that it was, in fact, Legolas tugging you back. 

With noses grazing once more you find yourself lost within the world of his gaze. Those shimmering gems which rivalled the magnificence of moonlight and held their own against the stars. It held you firm, refusing to allow an ounce of deterring as the prince bore into your entire soul. 

“. . . Legolas?” You find your voice, albeit breathy, unhesitant, as you observe his every move. 

A gentle touch sheathes your cheek, warmth spreading throughout your skin as the elf cups the side of your face in a single hand. You’re confounded, perhaps even a little nervous. Yet when you draw an inhale to call a second time, his words take your breath away. 

“I’ve missed you, Y/N. Dearly.’’ 

His thumb rubs at your cheekbone, bringing forth a feeling you had long locked away 一 and just when you prepare to find your voice once more, he steals that too. “There has been not a night since you left that I regretted every decision which brought us to that point.’’ “Legolas -” “Please, let me speak this time.’’ 

What can you do? But grant his quavering request. 

Legolas takes a moment to lose himself within your glimmering hues, those which he believed he would never see again, those which ached his chest at the mere memory. And for a moment he halts, contemplating. A mini conflict of his conscious attempting to deter his motives, a hesitant plead of which he ultimately ignores. When he finally swallows any doubt along with the growing lump in his throat, he takes your face into a tender, loving hold. 

“I was blind,’’ a quivering breath, he repeats. “I was blind. . .’’ 

He brings you closer, relishing in your radiating warmth which he missed oh so much, allowing the mangle of your hushed, shaking breaths as his gaze holds yours still. Firm, raw, exposing any and every thought that ran through his mind. “I only realised the starlight in front of me when I could see it no more. When I lost you.’’ 

A shaky intake to soothe his burning lungs, he watches the glistening of tears in your eyes and preps a thumb to dry them if needed. “Please. . .’’ 

“Come back to me, please.’’ 

Air feels foreign to you as you attempt to catch your breath with little to no prevail. And as you stare into the azure pearls which pour out such adoration, such passion, love. . Your heart cries out, wishing to be torn into two as it yearns and beats for him. And at that moment, only him. Words that you desired to hear all those years ago only now reaching your ears, a gaze which you longed to be the object of, now dawning upon you at last. But when the haze faded and the fantasy melted before your very eyes, the dream around you shattered. 

“I cannot.’’ 

He’s taken aback, stunned in spot as you bring two hands up and gingerly remove his touch. It aches, it burns. A blistering feeling overtakes the former fluttering of your stomach and no matter how desperately you sought for breath it did little to soothe the searing agony within your lungs. And his eyes say it all: why? Why can you not? 

In-turn you respond with a tattered smile and forlorn features as you reach out to ghost a touch over his jaw. “I loved you, Legolas. . . and I believe a part of me still does,’’ you bite back the crack in your voice and fight the floodgates. “but -” 

“My love? What has you out so late?” 

A voice stiffens your form entirely, and before Legolas can turn and reveal your hand at his cheek you retract it in a split second. 

Standing there with concerned countenance is a tall man, sleep still evident across his features as he holds your gaze for but a second longer before shifting to the elf. “Who is this?” He questions, voice groggy yet tone showing off a twinge of scepticism. 

“An old friend of mine, my dear. Did you just wake?’’ Stepping away from the blonde you find yourself at your husband’s side within seconds, leaning up to press an assuring kiss to his cheek which immediately eases the tension in his muscles. “Mm, the bed was cold without you. I thought you promised to be back before dawn? I was worried. . .’’ 

“Forgiveness, I was caught up in reminiscing.’’ At last, you spare a glance to Legolas who stares in bewilderment. ‘My love’? ‘My dear’? It took not a genius to deduct who this man was to you. 

You swore the light in his eyes died as cerulean irises shattered altogether and in a single, devastating moment, a mirrored image presented to you. A look that you knew all too well. . . for it was the exact one you presented him all those years ago. 

“Can we return? I’d rather a few more winks of sleep before our day starts again.’’ Your husband smiles, paying no mind to the stranger before him. And with lingering hesitance, you respond with a nod and put on a curl of lips. “Of course, dearest. Let me bid him farewell, I will meet you home.’’ You peck his lips once more and observe him walking back the way in which he came, for your home was but a minute’s walk from the pathway of the tavern. 

When you turn to prince, that look still remains and it’s enough to clench your entire chest. Pushing down all heartache, all afflicting strains, you take a step towards him and meet his eyes in his sorrow. 

“Y/N. . .’’ 

You silence him with a touch to his hand, faint yet ever as gentle. “I’m sorry. . . Legolas.’’ For one last moment, hearts face one another and gazes intertwine. And in a single, devastating moment, you cut all losses. 

“It was simply not meant to be.’’ 

“Have I angered you, mellon nin?” 

“Angered me?’’ You are thrown off, flabbergasted at his ‘brilliant observation.' “What do you think Legolas? Yes! You anger me with this - this blindness!” Eyes widen in emphasis of your spluttering fury, a thousand emotions raging like the wildest of fires threatening to consume the very forest you found yourselves in. 

“Do you ever shut up about Tauriel? It’s Tauriel this, Tauriel that - I’m so worried for Tauriel. I’m so in love with Tauriel! Do you ever stop to see the truth or do you refuse to accept it!?’’ 

A voice at the back of your head screamed, pleading with you to stop and rip your head from the vigorous haze it found itself in. Alas, that voice was pushed to the side by none other than your growing anger, your hurt, your pain. Which bellowed at you to continue 一 and so you did. 

With little remorse for how the elf before you may have felt, you tightened your firsts and focused on the searing, burning feeling within your chest, the bitter taste in your mouth which left your words venomous, a part of you attempted to choke it down. 

“Y/N, I don’t. . . understand what you -”

“Of course you don’t!” It’s a hiss that leaves him silent. “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve deluded yourself with the thought of being in love with her - with the thought of her. Everything is Tauriel - Tauriel, Tauriel, Tauriel!”

Stop,

stop , stop  一

“I’m sick of it!” 

He’s left stunned at your words, unable to find his voice. All Legolas can do is stare at you dumbfounded, voiceless, confused. “I’m sick of it. Of her, of you 一 watching you fall deeper and deeper in love with a woman who will never return the favour. A woman who holds no love for you!” There’s a break in your voice, echoing something deeper within you.  

“A woman who will never see what I see. . .’’ you rasp. “A woman who will never feel what I feel.’’ 

The world around you freezes and turns to ice, a cold silence that greatens the invisible rift roaring between two hearts, once harmonised. Legolas is left processing all of which you told him 一 his stare of wide eyes find your own which sting and threaten to shatter even further. 

And he sees it all. The crack in your mask, the inevitable break which is soon to come. And yet he can say nothing, for his voice is lodged in his throat, forming a lump within its base and restricting any defence or response he may have. All he can muster is your name, to which you flinch and turn away in an attempt to compose yourself. 

“I can’t. . .’’ It’s a shaky murmur, but a firm one nonetheless. “I’m in love with you, Legolas.’’ You fight back the tremble in your voice and push back your screaming conscious in favour of facing him. “I am so undeniably, inexplicably. . . in love with you.’’ A shaky breath, the confession parts your lips like fragments of stardust, drifting into the midnight air. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. 

“But she holds your heart. Not me.’’ You suck a breath through your teeth, trying to ignore the growing blur in your vision as tears flood your eyes. “And it. . . it hurts.’’ 

“Why?’’ The question is left unanswered, which causes your jaw to tighten as you take a step forward and bring your gaze to his. “Why!?” It’s louder yet all the more shakier, startling a few woodland creatures which silence their melodies of the night. “I have been at your side for as long as I can remember, through everything. The good, the bad, the heartache, the joy!”

Why? 

Why 一 Why!?

“What can I do to have you look at me the way you look at her? What must I do to earn your heart?’’ At long last, tears escape and cascade down your cheeks, creating streaks of waterfalls as you are unable to hold back any longer. 

“What! What am I supposed to do!? Please, tell me what I’m supposed to do.’’ 

The once assertive, firm question melts into nothing but a broken sob, a desperate cry as you hang your head in shame. You are left with nothing but a shattered confession and a devastated heart 一 all for what? Love? This silly little feeling which has brought you nothing but agony since the day you felt it. . . for him. 

Legolas is left standing there. Astonished, aghast. If anyone were to see him they may have mistaken him for a statue with the way he paled and remained as stiff as stone. In actuality, he was unable to fathom what was recently revealed to him; let alone formulate a response. The only word on his lips is your name, which he whispers out once more in hope of drawing your attention. 

He manages to snap out of his confoundment and ever so hesitantly reaches out. “Y/N. . . please,’’ his touch just barely grazes your shoulder before you jerk back, granting him but a glance of your tear-filled eyes. His chest clenches at the expression he catches. Anguish, torment. . . 

Heartache. 

“I think,’’ you draw him out from his daze with a breathy whisper. “I-I think I need to leave.” “Y/N, wait 一’’ You shun his hand away and turn within a matter of seconds, bringing your hood up. 

“Legolas, please.’’ Droplets hit the floor and you gasp for the sweetness of air to ease your burning lungs. “Return home. . . return to her.’’ 

The prince is helpless, unable to stop you from disappearing into the night and leaving him with his heart in his hands. His mind a blur, a light quake in his knees, he carries himself back to Mirkwood’s palace with nothing but a lump in his throat and a pain in his chest. 

Fate truly was cruel to him, it seemed.