#legolas.

the battlefield had gone quiet , save for the moans of the dying and the crackle of distant fires ; another patch of land painted in blood and tragedy . legolas moved like a swift shadow through the carnage , the high of combat still thrumming in his blood . but it wasn’t the taste of victory he craved ─ albeit achieved with tireless courage and without letting a dagger break his skin . he's found himself breathless by the time he reached faramir's tent . the night air howled with the cold winds as legolas' soft moans filled the space inside the tent . he feels bad for doing it when faramir had some injuries but they didn't look very fresh nor dangerous to the elf . his own body carried a fading bruise under his ribs , from an orc with an exceptionally heavy fist . purple contrasting against white , aching ever so slightly when faramir's bloody fingers pressed on it . his last gasp morphed into a low moan , dazed eyes stare up into the man's ─ faramir looks wild like this . far from the gentle soul that winces whenever legolas receives a blow to his face or chest , as rare as it is . mortal , yes ─ but something about him burned brighter than any star , took legolas' breath away . faramir leans in and before their lips clash , legolas' are parting . something elven is whispered between their kisses , until legolas can remember faramir doesn't speak his tongue . ‘ you're so beautiful .. ‘ a useless compliment , one he'll be embarrassed about tomorrow . but right now his mind was fuzzy , brows furrowed in concentration as eyes closed . his back arched , gripping onto the man's shoulders as he pounded inside him with fervor .

My king with a moss crown for the spring rains <3 

"In a great hall with pillars hewn out of the living stone sat the Elvenking on a chair of carven wood. On his head was a crown of berries and red leaves, for the autumn was come again. In the spring he wore a crown of woodland flowers. In his hand he held a carven staff of oak."

the world of men had ruined his elegance . once a bright steel among the mud of mortals , now stained with their blood . legolas loosely holds his bow , rests his elbows on knees and listens to soldiers scream in grief . the word was foreign to him , maybe the prince should have listened to his father when he was adviced to stay away from the mortals . they'll die , and their death will kill you , eventually . grieving is terrifying to legolas ─ he's been running away from the statue of a darling elven queen all his life . located by the half ruined gates of the green woods , the very path legolas always avoided because he didn't want to see his mother's statue . beautiful , dead , not even her voice lingers in his ears anymore . legolas is terrified of grieving , of remembering and knowing he'll never have them in the same room with him . sea eyes follow aragorn's figure far away from where he's sitting , he knows the man is alive , he doesn't know why he's still trying to make sure .

aragorn checks the bodies , gathers their chains , brushes his dirty hand over their eyes to close them , then he pats faramir on the shoulder . one that notices legolas' eyes on him ─ he's not sure why he doesn't look away when their eyes meet . he doesn't know why he tenses up when faramir steps closer . close until he's forced legolas to straighten up a little , stare up at the man's bright eyes which catch the setting sun . faramir is a handsome man , there's an odd sort of delicacy to his strong features that legolas finds attractive . at least he's started to find it attractive for a while now . faramir's height casts a shadow over his pale face , just when the green prince wants to part his lips he feels faramir lean in . and he doesn't draw back , no . he even closes his eyes when those lips touch his forehead , where the silver hair grows . they open only to view faramir's neck , the collar of his armor that hides his chest . perhaps his eyes have been searching for faramir all over the battlefield all the time , having received some wounds on his flesh that damaged his elvish pride . perhaps faramir noticed it ─ because legolas' admiration was always so silent , unless it was friendly . aragorn always listened to the young elf compliment his skills and wits but tauriel never heard it . faramir never heard it ; all faramir had were legolas' lingering stares and his constant presence creeping closer whenever danger was near . once the man pulls away , legolas finds himself staring at the lips that pecked his forehead . ‘ .. i don't want to grieve for you . ‘ one of his hands move , tips of his fingers feel the cold metal wrapped around faramir's knee . is this rejection ? a helpless plea ? or just something that he didn't want to hide anymore ? legolas doesn't want to ponder over the answer now , he simply tilts his head upward to brush the tip of his nose against faramir's bearded jaw . ‘ i won't survive it , dear captain . ‘

healers tried their best , aragorn had told him , even tried to convince him not to chase the impossible . legolas knew of his friend's tender heart , despite how well trained he was in the acts of indifference . the soldier was ─ too young . a little boy carrying around a big sword , his mother had noticed the sharpness of legolas' ears and just as farmer knew , was aware of the healing powers the elves possessed ─ she begged him , cried , i have no one but my son . the green prince was no healer , at least not openly . at least not as good as tauriel was ; he should have taken the child to the palace , though it remains uncertain whether he'd survive the long road with a wound like this . when he first opened his brown eyes and peered up at legolas' face , farmer was close . observing .