#lotr reader-insert

The barman waves at the odd couple, and they come to the counter. The three exchange pleasantries, but Legolas and Y/n are careful to be vague about their travel plans. Even though the barman seems innocently curious, one can never be too cautious. The barman inquires about their needs.

“Meals for tonight and tomorrow morning, as well as two rooms — at least one with a fireplace if you’ve got it.” Legolas reaches under his cloak and produces a velvet pouch containing the human currency he brought for the journey.

The barman grimaces. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid there is only one room left. You see, we are a small establishment, and the guests that arrived shortly before you requested separate dwellings.”

With narrowed eyes, Legolas turns to regard a very satisfied-looking human and dwarf. Gimli raises his mug, winking at his elven friend.

“Did they, now,” Legolas murmurs, beginning to guess at his friend’s plan. At his side, he hears Y/n huff in disbelief, obviously having caught on.

To his credit, the barman seems genuinely apologetic. “Yes, I-I’m afraid so, sir. If you like, there is another inn on the other side of town, I could inquire about vacancies there—”

“No, thank you.” Legolas cuts him off, trying to soften his cold tone with a smile. He can’t risk the managers talking and comparing guests before he and his companions are long gone. “We will make do.”

The barman briefly disappears to find the key, and Y/n tries to study Legolas surreptitiously. Unfortunately, he seems to have the same idea about her, and their eyes dart away immediately upon meeting, knowing they’d each been caught.

How awkward.

The barman returns, sliding a smooth silver key into Legolas’ hand, who quickly pays the man. “Would it be too much trouble to have dinner delivered to our room?” Legolas swallows. Our room.

The barman responds favorably, but there is an unmistakable note of disappointment to his tone. No doubt he was looking forward to studying probably the only elf he’s ever seen.

Y/n sneaks a look over to Gimli, who is quite enjoying his mead, and figures that he will give the barman enough entertainment to last a few years.

The pair ascends the stairs, and Y/n notices a pink twinge to Legolas’ cheeks. He stumbles over his words, something quite unusual for him. “I—uh, did not mean to presume. I apologize.”

Y/n shrugs. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s our fault for not asking to arrive first, I guess,” Y/n tries for a laugh, but it’s impossible for Legolas to not notice how she won’t meet his eyes.

He stops on the landing, looking quite pained. He hates the idea of making her uncomfortable. “I will sleep on the floor.”

Y/n takes pity on the poor elf, and puts effort into seeming relaxed. “No, really, it’s okay. It’s no different from lying near each other when we camp, right?”

It is completely different, Legolas thinks, but decides not to share that comment.

They reach the door, and both try to will their nerves away as Legolas turns the key in the lock.

“Oh.” Y/n is pleasantly surprised by the state of the room. “It’s nice.”

Legolas has to agree. The bed—the sole bed—is off the ground and boasts an actual mattress, complete with two fluffy pillows and three blankets. There’s a fireplace, a water basin, a tin tub, two exceptionally large jugs of water, and a changing screen. The presence of these amenities constitutes luxury after their time in the wilderness.

Y/n crosses the threshold first, and Legolas chides his own cowardice. The battlefield gives no fear to him, but sharing a room with the woman he…

Well.

He forces himself to enter the room.

Y/n twists the hem of her tunic in her hands, trying desperately to get through the awkwardness. “Will it bother you if I have a bath?”

Legolas practically catapults himself forward, eager to have a task to busy his mind. “Not at all. I’ll heat the water.” He grabs one of the water-filled jugs, lays it on the grate inside the fireplace, and works to start a fire.

Y/n fiddles with the changing screen, dragging it slightly to the left so it completely shields the length of the tub. Even though the fire is properly kindled, Legolas stays near it, kneeled on the ground, eyes glued to the heating water.

Y/n chances a look at him, and the sight of him brings a small smile to her lips. He’s just so sweet. And though she would never say it out loud, Y/n admits to herself that, if she had to spend the night with any of her companions, Legolas would be her first and only choice.

Y/n busies herself with spot-cleaning their extra clothes until Legolas has the water heated and pours it in the bath.

Are his cheeks red from embarrassment or the heat, she wonders.

“I-I’ll stay near the bed and-and give you your privacy,” he stutters out, looking anywhere but at her.

Definitely embarrassment. Y/n bites back a smile, grabs her washing supplies, and slips behind the changing screen.

She undresses and slides into the water, sighing contentedly at her first encounter with warm water in weeks. Knowing it won’t last long, she works quickly to scrub the dirt from her skin.

Legolas sits on the edge of the bed, trying to distract himself by cleaning their weapons. He doesn’t know whether he should try and converse with her, or ignore her completely, or if he should just run from the room and never come back?

Valar, how this is difficult!

A knock sounds on the door.

“That was fast,” Y/n muses, to which Legolas hums in agreement.

He sheds his cloak and uses it to conceal the weapons, then meets the barman at the door to collect the dinner plates.

Legolas shuts the door with his foot and turns back towards the bed.

And freezes upon realizing the issue.

Y/n is still in the bath.

Legolas exhales, looking down at the plate in his right hand, then to the changing screen, then quickly to the opposite corner of the room, a blush coming to his cheeks once again.

He closes his eyes, drawing in a breath.

You are a prince, he reminds himself. You lead council meetings, command troops, and have the respect of an entire kingdom. Pull yourself together.

Before he can give himself a chance to lose his nerve, he turns on his heel, and marches towards the changing screen.

“Delivery, My Lady.”

The teasing tone in Legolas’ voice catches Y/n off guard, and she releases a startled laugh. He can’t be serious? But she sees the tips of his boots peeking under the edge of the wooden screen, and decides to play along, trusting him to keep his gaze respectful. “You may approach, Good Sir.”

Legolas peeks around the screen, presenting Y/n her plate of food and making a show of keeping his eyes closed.

Y/n giggles, for just a moment forgetting the awkwardness and the insurmountable pressure of the fate of the world on their shoulders. “Such service! Thank you.”

Legolas bows, and returns with his own food to his spot on the bed. As they eat, they trade stories of the time before they knew each other — Y/n being careful to edit any details that would give her non-Arda origins away. When the food is gone and the bathwater runs cold, Y/n dries, dresses in fresh clothing, and folds back the changing screen.

She and Legolas stare at each other, unsure how to proceed.

“Um, is there anything you needed to do before bed?”

“No.” Legolas shakes his head. “You?”

“No.” A pause. “Well, I guess we should go to sleep, unless you wanted a bath?”

“It’s alright, I washed in the stream earlier.”

Y/n shifts on her feet. “Oh. Right. You sure you don’t want something hot?”

Legolas smiles. “Temperature doesn’t affect ellyn the way it does humans.”

Y/n laughs softly at herself, using it as an opportunity to exhale some of the nerves. “Forgot….I’ll just get the candles, then.”

Legolas stands abruptly. “Let me.” Then, his panicked look fades into a teasing smile. “Humans already have terrible eyesight in the daytime, I fear for your safety if I let you stumble around in the dark.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Y/n laughs, crawling onto the side of the bed closest to her. The mattress probably isn’t the softest in the world, but it’s much better than the freezing ground. And the pillow and blankets are a nice touch. Y/n remembers her fluffy bed back home, and finds herself snuggling deeper into the covers, trying to recreate the memory.

The room goes dark, and moments later, Y/n feels the bed dip beside her.

Legolas slides under the covers wordlessly, keeping as far to the edge as he can. His mind runs a million miles a minute, wondering if he’s making her uncomfortable, noticing how nice her hair smells, thinking how he’s going to kill Boromir and Gimli for putting them in this position, and everything in between.

On the other side of the bed, Y/n stares at the wall, unable to calm down enough to sleep. Never in her life has she been so affected by someone else’s presence. It’s just a bed for Pete’s sake, she’s shared plenty of them before!

But she can feel his warmth from across the mattress, can picture how his chest would feel under her cheek, and fights the urge to cuddle in close to him.

Oh how she is going to murder Gimli and Boromir.

Time passes, neither of them knowing how much.

But after a while, Y/n gives voice to the more anxious thoughts in her head, unable to let them go.

“Are you awake?”

Legolas’ voice is soft, barely a whisper in the late night. “Yes.”

Silence, and Legolas wonders if Y/n has fallen asleep. But a few breaths later, she speaks again, this time, with a measure of fear in her voice.

“Do you think we can do it? Destroy the Ring?”

“We will.” His voice is confident, steady, just the reassurance she needs. “No matter the cost, we will see this Evil defeated.”

Y/n sighs, closing her eyes. She gives into the exhaustion in her bones, in her mind, and sinks into dreamless sleep. Legolas follows not long after, allowing himself only the briefest of looks at his slumbering companion. He holds the image of her peaceful face in his mind as he drifts off.

And if they do find themselves cuddled up in the morning, well, no one needs to know.

A/n See you all tomorrow with part four! Likes, comments, and reblogs are so appreciated. Also, let me know if you would like a tag!

Tag list: @angelic-kisses13 @lainphotography @anangelwhodidntfall @sheriffgerard @themerriweathermage @k-llama-llama

Maybe he was reading too much into things. Maybe there was never any special look just for him, or a softness in her voice when she said his name only, or a light in her eyes when he made her laugh. Maybe he was completely wrong, and they weren’t teetering on the edge of something more than friends.

Doesn’t she know that elves take things extremely seriously, and he wouldn’t have offered to bring her home with him, introduce her to his father and his people, and help her build a life in his homeland if he didn’t….if he didn’t….

But it doesn’t matter, he grumbles inwardly. Because it’s obvious she doesn’t feel the same way. She must have realized the gravity of what it meant when I offered, and is now trying to tell me she doesn’t want that.

But even as his head tries to convince him to let her go, to let the tenderness he feels for her fade away, his eyes find hers. She notices his gaze, and raises a questioning eyebrow. It’s accompanied by a kind smile, but that’s the smile she gives everyone. Foolishly—possessively—immaturely, he wishes to see his smile again.

He tears his eyes from hers, trying to pull himself out of his own head. Instead, he turns his focus to his senses, exploring the area around them, doing his part to keep his companions safe. After all, it’s nearly sunset, and as the light fades, so does the eyesight of many. His ears pick up on something far in the distance, and he jogs to catch up with Aragorn.

“Are you sure about this?”

Aragorn falls into step with his friend. “I have considered the risk extensively, and there is no avoiding it. We need to resupply, and I fear not only for morale but for physical health if we don’t all get a proper meal and rest safe from the elements. Besides, it’s a sizable but remote human village, quite isolated from the rest of the world. By the time news of our presence travels, we will be long gone on an alternate path.”

Legolas nods, accepting his wise friend’s assessment. Even to him, the idea of an actual rest holds great appeal — he can’t even imagine the pull it will have for his friends.

Eventually, the others begin to notice that, rather than going in a wide berth around the rising smoke that hints at a town, they head straight for it. Legolas can physically feel their excitement, and can’t stop from feeling a bit giddy himself.

Aragorn calls for a halt in the woods near the town’s gate, and the group gathers close. They are still concealed, and Legolas wonders if Aragorn has changed his mind, if he’s going to make them go back?

But thankfully, Aragorn has no such intentions. In fact, he has a very different sort of plan.

“Right,” he starts, fixing them all with a level stare. “We cannot enter all ten of us at once, that would be too conspicuous. Instead, we shall go in smaller groups that still make strategic sense. There is to be no interaction between the groups, except for pleasantries that you would exchange with anyone else. We will take staggered entrances and leave the same way, meeting up tomorrow morning a mile west. I know this town, and it has two small inns — we will split ourselves between them. Gandalf and I will go first to the inn on the West side of town. After half an hour has passed, Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Merry — you all will join us. Shortly after I leave, so shall Boromir and Gimli, but to the inn on the East side. After a good amount of time has passed, Legolas and Y/n, you join them.”

The companions grin, finding excitement in Aragorn’s game of deception, but Legolas feels a sense of unease grow in his stomach. He has not been alone with Y/n since last night, and a tension has obviously arisen between them. He turns his head to find Y/n avoiding his gaze, but she does not protest to Aragorn’s grouping of them, so neither does he. Perhaps their time alone will give them the chance to sort out whatever he’s done to upset her.

As decided, Aragorn and Gandalf leave first, followed closely by Boromir and Gimli. Y/n sits on the ground chatting quietly with Pippin and Merry, while Legolas joins Sam to guard Frodo, as they know Aragorn would want them to do. When enough time has passed for the hobbits to leave, Y/n waves them goodbye, wishing them sweet dreams in a warm bed.

The silence of the night that Legolas had become so accustomed to is marred by the harsh nosies of the human town. It doesn’t seem to bother Y/n, who raises herself from the ground and peeks curiously through the trees. “You know, it’s the first time in months we’ve all slept apart from each other.” Legolas finds himself perplexed as Y/n shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “Gosh, I sound so codependent.”

But Legolas just smiles, knowing well the sort of bond that forms between those who fight together. “No, I understand. It will be strange. But it might be nice to have a room all to yourself. None of Gimli’s snoring to worry about.”

Y/n snorts, crossing her arms and regarding Legolas with the smile he had been aching to see all day.

But as quickly as it appears, it fades from her face, replaced with a contemplative set in her brow. She looks conflicted, but he can’t for the life of him figure out why. She doesn’t take her eyes from his, and he’s too captivated to look away. Legolas takes a step forward, the darkness and her eyes and just her calling to him, asking him to come closer. Is he imagining the spark of hope in her eyes? Valar, he prays not.

Somehow, he finds himself standing right in front of her, when just seconds ago he’d been at least a yard away. Y/n tilts her head up to look at him, and the way the moon sparkles in her eyes and lights the soft curve of her cheek — he feels his hand raise, he wanted to brush his fingers and see if it’s as smooth as it looks. He wants to hold her in his arms, and beg her to forgive him for whatever wrong he committed that kept her warmth from him that day.

Y/n worries her bottom lip, still looking up at him with those wide, guarded eyes. He sees something shift in them, and knows a decision had been made, but what?

“Legolas, I need to—”

Crack!

Legolas has his bow nocked and whirls around before he even has time to fully register the sound.

He notices the squeak of hinges that accompanies the sharp smack of the wood, and lowers his bow, feeling startled still, despite the innocent nature of the noise.

“It’s alright,” he mutters to Y/n, who has only just pulled her knives from their scabbards. Absently, he feels worry for his human friend, who, with the slow reflexes that are a fault of her kin, could have already been killed, had the threat been serious. “It’s just the gate.”

“Oh.” She blinks, and puts her weapons away somewhat stiffly. “We should go, shouldn’t we? No sense in standing around in the dark longer than necessary.”

Legolas turns his head back to her, and knows the moment has passed. The certainty he saw before has vanished, and the wall between them risen again.

He returns his bow to his back, trying to ignore the crushing disappointment he feels. “Right. After you.” He waves her forward, and they start on the path to the gate.

A/n So now we’ve got a look into Legolas’ head! What did you think? Likes, comments, and reblogs make me so so happy, and let me know if you would like a tag :) 

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I laugh as Haldir leans over me and peppers my face and neck with tiny kisses, encouraging me to roll onto my back. After much giggling and futile attempts to return to sleep, I comply, allowing him to kiss me fully on the lips. I sigh into the kiss, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer to me.

“I’ve missed this,” I breathe, closing my eyes when Haldir places a gentle kiss on my collarbone. “Three months is too long.”

At this, he raises his head, showing me the apology in his eyes “I know. I am sorry for leaving you for such a time, but I cannot ask it of my wardens and not hold myself to the same standard.”

I take one of his hands in mine, fiddling with his fingers. “You are much too honorable for my liking, Marchwarden.”

His playfulness from earlier returns, and he wraps his arms under my back. “I take offense! I shall have to prove to you that I am no such ellon.” With that, he releases his knees, dropping his full weight on top of me.

“Haldir,” I laugh, trying to push him off of me. “You must move, I cannot breathe!”

He buries his face in the crook of my neck, and I feel his smile against my skin. “Now what were you saying? I doubt an honorable ellon would try to squish his wife.”

“I shall have you arrested for attempted murder,” I gasp, elbowing him in the ribs and kicking at his shins.

He grins languidly, but relieves the pressure on me slightly. “And who is going to carry out this arrest? I am, as you say, the Marchwarden of this realm.” He raises a haughty eyebrow. “And I have no intention of incarcerating myself.”

I bump my nose against his, earning myself a soft smile. “Then it seems I shall have to lock you up.”

Haldir’s lips drop to mine, and he kisses me with a passion that has me quite willing to stay in this bed all day. “Such promises she makes,” he teases, and then seems to reign himself in. With a final, much more innocent kiss, he rises to his knees, offering me a hand. “Would you like breakfast?”

I enjoy my first full breath in minutes and take his hand, following him out of the bedroom. “You have been at the borders for three months. Sit, and let me cook for you.”

He does as he’s bid and, while I gather ingredients, he perches on one of the high stools that faces into kitchen. He does not stay on his side of the counter long, though, and soon wraps his arms around my waist, holding me closely against him as I cook.

There’s a knock on the door and Haldir and I exchange questioning looks. With a raised eyebrow, he releases me and walks through the talan to the front door. It’s not long before I hear the jovial greetings of Orophin and Rumil, and, smiling to myself, I retrieve two more plates from the cabinet.

Haldir enters the kitchen, his younger brothers in tow. “Do you mind, my love?”

“Not at all,” I grin, pulling the ellyn in for hugs.

“Of course she minds,” Rumil laughs, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek before sitting on a stool. “Her husband only just got back last night, and now she’s got a kitchen full of guests. I’m sure she’d much rather be f—”

I hurry to interrupt the youngest of the three, carefully placing some fruit on his plate. “You know you are both welcome here any time, I—”

“Relax, Y/n,” Orophin laughs, holding up a hand to stop my protests. “Rumil and I do not plan to stay long. We only wanted to see our brother, make sure he’s in one piece.”

“And have breakfast,” Rumil declares, mouth full of bread. Haldir rolls his eyes and darts a quick hand out to shove Rumil’s head towards the counter. Rumil only just keeps his head from connecting with the wood, and ducks around Haldir’s outstretched arm to push at his chest.

“Enough,” I laugh, sitting down with my own plate. The two eye each other with amused suspicion, but otherwise obey.

The four of us inevitably get on the topic of Haldir’s time away, and he regals us with the more entertaining stories from the borders. Before we know it, the morning has passed us by, and Orophin and Rumil must rush away to attend to their duties.

Haldir closes the door behind them, then pulls me into his arms. “Thank you for putting up with them.”

I snort and lay my head against his chest. “You know I love them.”

We stay there for a few minutes, wrapped in each other’s embrace. Haldir eventually pulls back and pushes me in the direction of our bedroom. “Change into something suitable for hiking. I’m taking you to the woods.”

I do as requested, rolling my eyes as I go. “You ask so politely.”

“It’ll be worth it,” he calls after me, and, because I can hear the excitement in his voice, I decide to believe him.

{***}

Two hours later and we are still walking.

“You know, I was only joking this morning, but now I think you might actually be trying to kill me,” I huff, struggling up the millionth hill of our hike.

My husband only laughs, reaching for my hand. “We are minutes away, meleth.”

To his credit, Haldir was right. Not five minutes later, the ‘trail’ ends and we stand on a cliff, overlooking a deep pond. I glance between Haldir and the water in delight — he knows how much I love a swim. “How did you find this?”

He shrugs like it’s nothing, though his chest puffs out. “I came across it during a scouting excursion a few weeks ago. I’ve been thinking of taking you here ever since.”

“I’m grateful,” I smile, leaning my back against his chest and pulling his arms to encircle me. He tightens his grip and starts a trail of lingering kisses up and down my neck. “It’s the perfect day, too,” I mumble weakly. The sun is shining, the air is hot, and a dip in the cool, clear water is just what I need.

I notice, perhaps belatedly, that neither of us brought proper swimming attire.

But it seems Haldir has planned for that.

He doesn’t stop his kisses when he speaks against my neck. “Take off your clothes.”

I let my eyes flutter shut. The sound of his voice and the way he sucks on my pulse point leaves me with no desire to protest. I pull at the ties on my tunic, and he follows suit. Soon, we are both undressed completely, standing naked in the shining sun.

Haldir pulls my mouth back to his, and, absently, I remember that, though we are in a secluded area, the woods is not necessarily private. “This area is unknown?”

His lips twitch against mine, and he pulls back so I can see his assured smile. “No one is around. No one will know we are here.”

That’s good enough for me. I wrap my arms around my husband’s neck and move to kiss him again, but he scoops me up in his arms, grinning wickedly.

Oh no. “Haldir-”

With a confidence that’s both infuriating and wildly attractive, he winks…

And steps off the cliff.

The water is much colder than I imagined, and I shriek the moment it touches my skin. Haldir finds this quite amusing, though I note with a smirk of satisfaction that a shiver runs up his own spine.

Not so invincible.

With that in mind, I wriggle out of his arms and splash as much water as I possibly can in his direction.

For a moment, he looks so utterly betrayed that I feel a twinge of guilt.

But then he lunges me, and all sympathy disappears.

He grips my shoulders firmly and shoves me under the water. He lets me up almost immediately, but the damage is done.

He’s submerged me in the freezing water twice already, and I cannot let that go.

I jump at him, but his skills on the battlefield apparently apply also to water fights, and he is much too quick for me. He places one arm behind my back and the other behind my legs and brings me into his arms, cradling me against his chest—despite my struggles.

“There, there,” he laughs over my protests. “Deep breaths now.”

I glower at him and manage to get a hand free, splashing a spout of water into his face. He raises an eyebrow, replacing his carefree laughter with the trademark Marchwarden Stoicism.

“Is that the best you’ve got?”

I lift my own eyebrow, meeting his challenge. “Release me and find out.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but the wind rustles the leaves, and he tenses.

I freeze against him, knowing Haldir well enough to see that, in the slight noise from the moving greenery, he has found cause for concern.

“What is it,” I whisper, but he raises a hand, cautioning for silence. I purse my lips together and strain my ears, trying to hear the forest as he does. Centuries in the trees have made him hyper-sensitive to every rock, leaf, animal — and intruder.

I gulp, tightening my grip on his shoulders.

Without warning, Haldir plunges me into the water once again, and I sputter, finding myself pressed against the cool skin of his back.

“M-Marchwarden,” a voice stutters out.

Oh Valar.

I’m suddenly painfully aware of how naked I am.

“Erlan,” Haldir sighs, giving the young ellon a displeased stare.

I recognize the name. Erlan is the newest member of Lothlórien’s Guard, only just having come of age some twenty years ago. Haldir says he is inexperienced, but shows promise, and frequently does week-long stints as part of the forest patrol.

“I-I am so sorry, Marchwarden. I did not mean—” While the elf stumbles over his words, Haldir tries to discreetly lower his hands to cover the essentials, but the movement draws Erlan’s eyes. Realizing what he’s doing, Erlan jerks his head upwards, staring safely at the sky. “Oh my, I am so—”

“Just leave, Erlan,” Haldir grits out, the pink twinge to his cheeks slightly damaging his commanding tone.

Erlan tries for a respectful bow, but as he bends, his eyes lock with mine and he yelps, straightening quickly. Haldir shifts to block me completely from view, raising an arm in Erlan’s direction. “Go!”

Erlan nearly runs into a tree in his haste to escape, and the hilarity of the situation overrides any embarrassment I might feel. I laugh, wrapping my arms around Haldir’s middle, encouraging him to turn in my arms. He does so, though his eyes scan our surroundings suspiciously.

To distract him from his anger, I press kisses to his chest, and, eventually he relaxes in my arms. Once I know his ire has passed, I rest my chin against his sternum, looking up at him with a wide grin. “I thought you said no one would find us.”

He fixes me with an unimpressed glare, the redness returning to his cheeks. “I will be speaking with him first thing tomorrow morning. His observation skills are—”

“Still in progress,” I interject, dragging my hands up his chest until I reach his shoulders. “Go easy on the poor ellon.” Using my grip, I pull myself up, wrapping my legs around his hips.

This seems to put him in a much more favorable mood, and he hums softly, laying his head against my shoulder. “I suppose you’re right. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“Exactly,” I smile, pleased that I still have the ability to distract him like this even after a century of marriage. “Though I do believe that no one will be intruding upon us now, since Erlan is there to warn them.” I brush my lips against his shoulder, hinting at my intentions.

“My, you are smart,” his chuckle rumbles against me, and I dip my head to meet the lips that soon quirk teasingly against mine. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

I pull back, leveling him with a glare that rivals his own.

He attempts to school his expression, though he retains a mocking glint in his eye. “Intelligent and terrifying. I think I’ve hit the jackpot.”

I dip a hand into the water and flick it back towards his face, effectively wiping away his smug expression. “Do shut up.”

Laughing once more, he pulls me back to him, picking up where we left off.

I love having him home.

Even if I definitely plan on half-drowning him before we leave.

A/n So does anyone else adore Haldir, or is it just me? 

Likes, comments, and reblogs mean the world to me! Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to a tag list :) If you have any questions about the challenge, feel free to message me/submit an ask!

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I purse my lips, not wanting to give too much away. The others know that I have a bit of an, erm—strange— situation, but they don’t know that I haven’t got a home in Arda. We’ve had at least ten variants of this conversation already, and each time, I’ve managed to avoid participating. It seems my hobbit friend, though, is done letting that slide.

I shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. “I haven’t really thought about that much…” Just in case there’s no ‘once this is all over’. “But I guess I would find a human town somewhere and build a life. I’ve learned quite a lot on this journey, so maybe I could make a living as a guard or even a seamstress, seeing how often I mend your clothes,” at this, I throw a teasing look at Gimli, who blushes. Out of all of us, he’s the most prone to non-battle related injury, and I often find him trudging back to camp with a rip in his sleeve after simple tasks like collecting firewood or refilling his canteen.

Pippin ignores my joke, and now I realize that I have the concern-laden eyes of all four hobbits. “You…would not go back home? You wouldn’t see your family?”

I sigh, avoiding Gandalf’s gaze. He said I was free to tell my companions that I am not of this world, but I haven’t yet worked up the nerve. The stress of figuring out how I got here, why I’m here…it’s too much to burden them with on this perilous quest. I stifle a little laugh, my exhausted mind finding humor in the situation. Maybe that’s what I’ll do ‘once all this is over’. I’ll tell them that I’m practically an alien.  

Lost in my thoughts as I was, my silence drew the attention of Gimli and Boromir, and now I have six sets of concerned eyes regarding me. Great. I try to speed the conversation along so we can get to someone else. “Well, I haven’t seen my family in quite a long time…I think they think I’m dead, actually, and for all I know, they could be too…” This thought troubles me greatly, and I hurry to replace it with something else, forcing my voice to sound cheery and hopeful.“But that only means that I’m free to go anywhere—explore any place I like.”

Pippin looks quite heartbroken at my words, and I scramble to think of ways to fix it. But before I can, he grips my hand tightly in his, and I feel Merry mirror his actions on my other side. They look up at me triumphantly, smiling brightly. “You can come live with us, in The Shire,” Pippin declares, to which Sam nods earnestly. Frodo, as always of late, seems distracted, but offers me a distant smile.

A laugh of shocked joy escapes my lips, and I look between my valiant hobbit friends with possibly even more affection than before. “Do they even allow that? Big Folks moving into The Shire?”

“Sure they do,” Merry brushes away my concerns, appearing quite assured of himself.

But Pippin only shrugs, seemingly having not a care in the world. “And if they don’t, we’ll just sneak you in.”

“Gondor would be happy to host you as well,” Boromir adds, surprising me a little. We haven’t talked much on this journey, so it’s nice to know that he sees me as enough of a friend to invite me to his home.

Feeling much better, I squeeze Merry and Pippin’s hands. “Thanks, you guys. Really.”

{***}

We stop when it gets too dark for most of us to see.

“We are too far from Rivendell’s borders for me to feel comfortable.” Aragorn shakes his head slowly as he considers our surroundings and the potential risk we face. “I would ask that we keep a double watch tonight, and for many nights to come. Y/n, Legolas?”

Legolas—the only one of us who seems to have an endless supply of energy—jogs to a tall rock a couple hundred meters from camp, and begins to climb. I’m a bit slower to follow.

In the past three weeks, Aragorn has put me on watch eight times, the most only after himself and Legolas, and definitely more than our other companions. Sam shoots me an apologetic look and quietly promises to bring us dinner as soon as it’s ready.

I grab my cloak and follow Legolas’ path, trying to keep my annoyance to a minimum. After all, it’s not the worst thing in the world…staying up most of the night with Legolas, just the two of us.

He hears me coming and turns around with a welcoming smile, lowering a hand to help pull me onto the boulder. His hand is so warm in mine, so solid, and I find myself wishing he wouldn’t let go.

But of course he does, taking his hand from mine the moment I’m settled next to him. I tuck my hands into my cloak, trying not to lament the loss. Regardless of my quickly-growing feelings towards my elven friend, he has never given me an indication that he sees me as anything more than that, a friend, and I need to respect that.

He fixes me with a raised eyebrow, somehow both looking at me and the landscape over my shoulder. “Are you alright with staying awake tonight? It has been a while since you slept fully.”

I freeze, caught in a sudden burst of happiness. He noticed that? Has he been paying attention to me?

Legolas continues, and the fledgling hope that perhaps my affections for him aren’t as one-sided as I thought comes crashing down. “I could speak to Aragorn. It is no issue for me to stand watch alone.”

I briefly close my eyes, berating myself for my stupidity. He’s not commenting on your well-being, he just doesn’t want to have to be alone with you for the next five hours. He must somehow know of your feelings and wants to discourage them — because really, why would an elf want to be with a human?

I purse my lips, desperately not wanting him to know I’m upset. “No, it’s okay, thank you though. I’ll do my part.” My words come out a bit more cooly than I intended, but that’s just as well. Best to seem unattached.

He nods, giving me a funny look, then turns to look back out on the vast expanse of trees.

Nearly an hour passes in silence, then Sam visits, bringing dinner with him. Aragorn had managed to find two rabbits, so we eat well tonight. I savor it, knowing we might not be so lucky tomorrow, or the day after next. As usual, Legolas chooses to eat standing, not willing to sacrifice his careful watch over our surroundings. Knowing he’s got it covered, I sit down on the rock with Sam, having a make-shift picnic. Still, I keep my daggers close and periodically take note of the sounds of the forest, just in case. Sam entertains us with stories from his childhood and of life in The Shire. At a tale of how he and Frodo found themselves running from a furious farmer in the middle of the night, even Legolas cracks a smile.

But eventually, the food is gone and Sam is stifling yawns, so he bids us goodnight, leaving me alone with Legolas once again.

I stand, brushing the dust off my leggings, and take my place next to him.

His eyes never leave the horizon, but I hear his voice, soft, quiet, and almost hesitant-sounding. “Is it true that you haven’t a home to return to?”

I’m a bit caught off guard. During that conversation earlier in the day, Legolas was all the way at the front the group, leading with Aragorn. I didn’t know he’d heard that. “Uh, yeah.” I nod, trying to project a confidence I don’t really feel. “It is.”

He goes silent, and stays silent for such a long time that I think that’s all the conversation we’ll have. But then, he speaks again, his voice steady and deliberate. “My home, Taur-e-Ndaedelos, is not safe right now.”

“Oh.” I blink. Is he opening up to me? I try to respond delicately, not wanting to accidentally discourage him from sharing his feelings in the future. “I am sorry. That must be very difficult.”

He waves off my apology, meeting my eyes for the quickest of moments and then turning once more to the landscape before us. “My people get by. I only meant that, perhaps…well, if we succeed, and the Great Evil is defeated, Taur-e-Ndaedelos will be safe, and might even be called Eryn Galen once more.” He shifts from one foot to the other, something I’ve never seen him do. “You would be welcome there.”

A smile—the widest one I’ve managed in a while—spreads over my face, and try as I might, I am unable to reel it in. Because even after all this is over, when the time would come naturally for us to part ways, he wants me still in his life. I’ve always figured that it would hurt me to be parted from him, but I never dreamed that he would feel the same way.

Legolas seems to grow agitated by my silence, and turns to look at me with a measure of stress in his brow. But once he sees my reaction to his words, the lines in his face soften into a grin of his own. “Gimli is similarly without a permanent dwelling. I have extended an invitation to him as well.”

Oh.

Of course.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at myself, feeling incredibly stupid. Of course I would read into his words. He didn’t mean anything significant by them, he was just offering me a place to stay, like he obviously would to any of his friends. Because he is a kind, good, and noble ellon.

Of course he doesn’t feel the same way as I do.

I was silly to hope.

I try to keep the smile plastered to my face and not let him see my crushing disappointment. That would be horribly embarrassing, and I’m not sure I could take the pity that would surely be on his compassionate face if he had to verbally express his disinterest.

“That—” my voice sounds annoyingly weak, and I clear my throat to correct it. “That’s really kind of you, Legolas. Thank you.”

There’s a question in his eyes, but he doesn’t ask it, only nods once and returns to his watch of the forest.

For my part, I try to turn all of my focus to the task at hand, reminding myself that, even if he never loves me back, I am truly lucky to have such a wonderful friend.

A/n See you all tomorrow with part two! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day! Also, let me know if you would like a tag.

Masterlist

She greeted him warmly, welcoming him back from his quick venture into the forest. Without meaning to, Legolas watched as Boromir placed a soft kiss on Y/n’s cheek, earning him a shy smile. Seeming slightly hesitant, Y/n laid her head on Boromir’s shoulder, and when he wrapped an arm around her back, Y/n relaxed, pleased that her advance was received favorably.

Legolas tore his eyes away from the budding romance, turning his back on them to help Sam with the fire.

“Oh, don’t you worry yourself with this, Mister Elf. I’ll get the fire going, I just need to find the right kindling.”

Legolas furrowed his eyebrows. “The firewood is not enough?”

Sam looked away, seeming uncomfortable with criticizing the quality of the firewood and, by extension, his friend Boromir. “I’m sure he did as best he could in the dark. Unfortunate it is though — most of the wood is too wet or covered in moss. Have you got a bit of spare paper, by chance?”

Legolas stared at the offending pile of wood. This is ridiculous, he thought. Do not volunteer to collect the firewood unless you know what you’re doing — it’s a waste of everybody’s time.

A giggle from Y/n floated to Legolas’ ear, and he couldn’t stop the frown that set in his lips. It seems it was not inexperience that caused Boromir to bring back unacceptable supplies, but distraction.

Legolas huffed in frustration, grabbing a stick at random and marching to where Boromir and Y/n sat.  

He shoved the moss-covered branch in Boromir’s direction. “This is what you came back with? Hardly any of it is usable. It is too long or half-drenched or covered in moss — it won’t burn.”

Boromir puffed out his chest, tearing his gaze away from Y/n to look upon the elf with a measure of disdain. “The wood is perfectly useable.”

Legolas clenched his teeth, caught in an unexpected flurry of anger. “It is apparent you have allowed yourself to become distracted and forget your duties. I will have to do it myself.”

He pushed past the two humans, stalking deeper into the woods.

With his elven hearing, Legolas heard Y/n’s soft and slightly alarmed voice call after him. Everything in him shouted for him to turn back, to answer her plea, but he kept his feet moving forward. Something about the camp tonight made him irrationally angry, and, stranger still, left him with an unwelcome discomfort in his chest.

He heard light footsteps behind him, and knew Aragorn was on his trail. Legolas kept walking until he was far enough away from the camp that he could no longer hear any individual voices, just a general murmur of sounds. He found a small cliff and a cluster of rocks and climbed, pleased that he found a spot that allowed him to sulk and keep an eye on the surrounding areas.

Aragorn was not far behind, and soon sat on a boulder across from Legolas.

The two sat in silence for a long while, both of their brows furrowed in thought. While Legolas contemplated the foul mood he found himself in, Aragorn struggled with how best to broach the conversation. Legolas was one of his closest friends, and he liked to think that he knew the ellon quite well. Over the past few months, it had become apparent to Aragorn that Legolas harbored affection for the human woman that accompanied their fellowship.

And it had recently become apparent to everyone that Y/n and Boromir were interested in each other.

Aragorn knew this was the reason for Legolas’ anger—he was sure of it. But how best to bring it up?

Finally, Aragorn spoke, bracing his forearms against his knees and turning towards the elf. “You know, Legolas, sometimes, when I think of Arwen in Rivendell surrounded by ellyn, I get a little stressed out.”

Shame gathered in Legolas’ gut. He felt quite guilty for being so dramatic when it was obvious Aragorn needed to talk. He mustered what he hoped was an encouraging smile, and laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder, trying to provide reassurance. “Do not be worried, mellon nin, elves love only once. If Arwen has chosen you, there is no threat from other ellon.”

Aragorn looked to the ground briefly. He hadn’t expected to have to try again.

He took a second to regroup. “Right. Thank you for that. But uh, if I were to see her in another’s arms, or see her flirt with them, even, that would make me very upset. And that’s to be expected, really. It only means I love her, and I wish for her to want me only.” The line between Legolas’ brow deepened, and Aragorn continued eagerly, hoping his friend was catching on. “It would hurt me to see the woman I love being affectionate with someone else.”

Legolas’ mouth set into a hard line, and his eyes widened. Aragorn nearly laughed in relief. Finally.

“Has Arwen been unfaithful?”

No! So close!

Aragorn bit back a curse, and Legolas took this as confirmation.

He sat back on his heels, his features encompassed by disbelief. “This is unheard of from an elf, though perhaps it is the influence of her human lineage. I admit, it pains me greatly to think her capable of such a thing. But do not fret, mellon nin, I will stand by your side through this.”

“No, Legolas,” Aragorn groaned, laying a hand on the elf’s shoulder, causing him to look Aragorn in the eye. Time to try again. More overt, this time. “Arwen has never been unfaithful, nor do I sense that quality in her.” Legolas relaxed in clear relief, and Aragorn allowed himself a deep breath before continuing. “I only meant to say, that if I had romantic feelings for someone…and I saw them engaging in displays of romantic affection with someone other than me….” Aragorn saw the moment realization began to dawn in Legolas’ eyes, and he felt a strong pang of sorrow for his friend. He forced himself to continue, knowing that Legolas needed to acknowledge these feelings in order to deal with them. “It would make me feel sad, and hurt, and probably angry and frustrated, too…and that’s okay. I think it would be especially difficult if I did not realize that I had these feelings of affection for her, until she was in the arms of another.”

Legolas seemed to sag, dropping his head and letting his elbows rest on his knees. The two sat in silence for a moment as Legolas took deep breaths, unused to feeling such frustration and grief. After what seemed like quite a long time, Legolas raised his eyes to Aragorn’s.

“How did you know? I did not even know.”

Aragorn gave a small shrug, hating that he couldn’t be of more help to his hurting friend. “You look at her in the same way I look at Arwen — with complete devotion. You’d give up your title for her, lay down your life for her…do anything and everything you could to make her safe and happy.”

Legolas tried to protest. “I want safety and happiness for any of you.”

Aragorn held up a hand to stop him. “It’s different and you know it.”

Legolas sighed, feeling defeated. “I don’t want to love a human. Especially a taken human.”

“Just be there for her, look out for her as her friend. And you never know. Give it time.”

Legolas clenched his teeth together against the onslaught of despair. “She is human, Aragorn. Time is something she does not have.”

Legolas, who had been standing watch and discovered the threat, immediately begins firing arrows, keeping the pack at bay. The rest of us spring into action, drawing weapons and shouldering our bags, looking to Aragorn to determine our next move. Despite the jolt of fear that runs through me, I know that luck is on our side. For one, our group had planned to set out shortly, meaning our camp is packed and we run no risk of leaving anything behind. Second, it was Legolas on watch, and his keen eyesight gave us critical early warning.

I feel a rough hand wrap around mine, and I’m yanked into a sprint. I nearly stumble at the speed Aragorn sets, but force myself to keep pace. A quick look at my surroundings tells me why we’re running — our camp is secluded, but there are too many high spots around us for it to be favorable in a fight. I can assume that we are making for higher or more open ground, so that we will not be at a disadvantage when the orc pack inevitably catches us.

There’s a muffled yelp, and I whip my head around to see Frodo tripping and falling roughly to the ground.

“Aragorn—” His name has barely left my lips when I feel his hands on my back, spurring me on, and he leaves my side, running back to aid our hobbit friend. Closer than I would like, the wails of the orc grow louder, and, at my right, Boromir speeds up, hauling Merry along with him.

The three of us break through the tree-line first, and immediately, an arrow whizzes above my head.

Damn it, they cut us off!

I don’t have much time to dwell on how the monsters got around us unnoticed, because a tall, imposing orc lunges in my direction. I raise my dagger and put all my focus into not letting the orc’s razor-sharp sword pierce my skin.

The shrieks and grunts of battle, as well as the shrill clanking of metal hitting metal fill the air. The orc jabs his sword at me, and I jump to my left. As the orc takes another swing, an arrow soars mere millimeters from my ear and imbeds itself in my attacker’s eye. I don’t even have time to shoot Legolas a thankful glance, because another beast catches my arm and pulls me against his foul-smelling side. I swipe at his arm with my dagger, and with a howl of pain, he throws me to the ground, raising his sword. I roll to the side, narrowly dodging the slice of steel, and push myself back to my feet. The orc is distracted, struggling with his weapon which is embedded in the ground, leaving the side of his neck exposed. I lift my dagger, and step forward, intent on ending this fight—

An arm grips my waist and pulls me back, moving me out of the way and slaying the orc.

I gawk at Aragorn, who, with the focused eyes of battle, rips his sword free of the orc’s neck and spins, killing a beast to his right.

“I had it,” I shout over the noise, unable to contain my frustration.

Aragorn straightens to face me, eyes wide. “Your back!”

Immediately, I turn on my heel and raise my dagger, pushing against the knife meant to impale my unguarded back. The orc is stronger than me, but if I can hold him off for just a few seconds more, I can reach for my other dagger and stab him in the stomach. As my hand twitches towards my belt, a sword passes around my side, impaling the orc with a sickening squelch.

Once again, I fix Aragorn with disbelieving eyes.

What was the point of investing all that time training me if I don’t get to use any of said training?!

The sounds of battle begin to fade, and, with a final swing of Gimili’s axe, the fighting is done.

We take stock of our injuries which are, thankfully, minor, and pull the dead orc deep into the tree line, not wanting to draw attention to our path. After the quickest of rests and a wash-up in the stream, we continue, Aragorn insisting that we cannot take any unnecessary delays now that we have orc interested in us.

We begin our trek, mostly in tired silence.

At the front of the group, Aragorn and Legolas do a mixture of scouting and chatting, seeming more relaxed the farther we get from the site of the attack. Aragorn doesn’t usually walk with me, preferring instead to lead with Legolas and keep an eye out for danger. Usually, I wish he would stay by my side, but today, I am grateful for the distance, as I’m not feeling too kindly towards him at the moment. I can’t stop myself from glaring at his back, resenting him taking away my right to handle myself in battle. But after an hour of lonely overthinking, resentment gives way to insecurity. What if he only jumped in because he thinks I’m weak? He’s probably not the only one…compared to everyone else, what advantages do I have? They probably all, to some extent, see me as a burden.

Gimli jogs up next to me, fixing me with a mildly concerned look.

“You alright, lassie? Not hurt, are ya?”

Aragorn’s head tilts in our direction. He’s listening.

Unable to contain my annoyance at his continued monitoring, I huff. “I’m fine, Gimli, thanks. Just tired.”

Gimli looks at the ground, seemingly unable to reconcile my usual friendliness with this foul mood. “Aye, well, t’is to be expected, after the morning we had. You fought well.”

I cross my arms, cocking my head to the side. “Did I? Because, as I remember it, I was barely allowed to fight at all.”

At this, I hear light sniggering behind me, and whip my head around to see a quickly composed Merry and Pippin looking anywhere but me.

Gimli makes a sighing, almost grumbling noise, and walks off to join his friends at the front of the group. Aragorn hangs back a little, waiting for me to catch up before resuming a slower pace.

“What troubles you?”

Getting right to the chase, then.

I huff angrily, my annoyance from this morning only growing now that I’ve had hours to stew about it. Because really, I am well-trained, I am capable, and he had no business neglecting his own safety to help me when I wasn’t in any actual danger. I had it all under control! And rather than feeling like a warrior equal with my companions, I feel like a girl who just slows them down and needs babysitting.

Aragorn stops walking and grips my elbow lightly, pulling me to stop with him. “I cannot help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

I glare at him. Can I handle nothing on my own?! “Well, maybe I don’t want your help, Aragorn.”

He sighs, sounding frustrated, but lets me go.

Neither of us makes an attempt to talk to the other for the remainder of our hike.

{***}

We stop when it is well and properly dark, making hasty camp. I drop my bedroll and begin preparing for the night, cleaning my dagger and shoes as best I can. The others sit on rocks near the fire, eyeing me warily.

Pippin elbows Merry and hisses in a low voice,“go and talk to her, something’s obviously wrong with her.”

Merry’s eyes grow comically wide, and he fixes his friend with an indignant expression. “Why does it have to be me, then?! I don’t want to get yelled at.”

“Because I checked on Frodo last Thursday when he was in a mood, and now it’s your turn.”

“I didn’t realize we were taking turns,” Merry whisper-shouts, oblivious to the fact that everyone can hear their argument just fine.

Sam fixes them with a pleading look before glancing over to me. “Miss Y/n, do you not want supper?” He hesitantly holds a bowl in my general direction.

“No, thank you,” I respond, cooler than intended. He blinks at me for a moment, and then hands the bowl to an amused Boromir.

I feel the weight of everyone’s questioning stares, hear their hushed whispers, and cannot take it one moment longer.

“I’m going to get more firewood,” I declare, tucking my dagger back into my belt and trudging deeper into the forest.

The woods are dark, but there is sufficient light from the moon, and I pick my way through the trees, looking for fallen logs and branches. I don’t stray to where I can no longer hear the voices of my friends, though — I may be angry, but I’m not stupid.

Less than two minutes later, the sound of light footsteps creeps into my hearing.

Aragorn walks to my side, bending to grasp and examine a log that might make for good firewood. He doesn’t look at me when he speaks. “Sam put aside some soup for you, though I would not delay if you wish to eat it. I saw Pippin eyeing it with interest.”

When I don’t laugh or give any indication that I heard him, he shifts on his feet, unsure. “I feel tension between us. I’ve upset you?”

I make a noncommittal noise and go a few yards deeper in the forest.

“Y/n?”

With a resigned sigh, I turn to face him, knowing that my silence is hurting him. “It’s stupid.”

Obviously pleased that I’m speaking to him now, Aragorn takes quick steps towards me, wearing an open expression. “If I have done something to hurt you, you have every right to be upset.”

I resist the urge to groan. Stop being so good and noble, it makes it hard to stay mad at you. I reign in my frustrations and sigh, forcing myself to look him in the eyes. “I feel like the weakest link. I’m the youngest, the only woman, I don’t possess any special abilities or extensive battle experience. I put a lot of work into being competent with my daggers, and still there are days when I question my right to be here with you all. So when you jump in to protect me, well-intentioned as you may be, I feel like a child that needs looking after rather than someone capable of standing her own ground.”

His face falls, and discomfort spreads in my stomach. But before I can apologize and take back my words, he offers his hands, and I take them gratefully.

“I did not consider how my actions would make you feel, though I understand now. Forgive me, Y/n?”

At his heartfelt words, my anger ebbs away. I use my grip on his hands to pull him closer and rest my forehead against his chest. “Of course.”

He pulls back slightly to bring my hands to his lips, pressing kisses on my knuckles. “I intervened during the fight not because I think you incapable, but because I wanted to keep you as much removed from the danger as possible. You are precious to me, Y/n. I won’t risk losing you.”

At this, he leans his forehead against mine, and I can’t help how I soften at his words. I didn’t think about it like that. “There is the slightest possibility that I may have accidentally overreacted a little.”

Aragorn rewards me with a deep chuckle, one I can feel vibrating through his chest, and shakes his head against mine. “Are you sure, my love? I think ignoring me all day was a completely proportionate response.”

I roll my eyes at the dripping sarcasm in his voice and raise a hand to smack his chest. Before I can get anywhere near him, his own hand shoots out and grabs my wrist —  an act that has me grumbling in irritation and him shaking with laughter. Once he regains composure, he brings my wrist to his lips and places the softest of kisses there, watching my face carefully for my reaction.

I look away, trying to distract myself from the fluttering in my stomach. He trails a line of kisses up my forearm, and I scramble for something to say before my brain gets scattered beyond help. “For the record, you mean the world to me and I would defend you in battle too, if the need were to arise.”

His lips pause against my skin. I turn my head back to him to see that he’s, much to my annoyance, trying to fight a smile. Unable to school his smirk, he raises his head, still holding my hand in his. “I thank you, dearest, but I hardly believe that will be necessary. I’ve been battling for decades, I can handle a few stray orc.”

I step back out of his embrace, crossing my arms and regarding him with raised eyebrows.

He realizes his mistake.

“Oh—um, I meant, I—”

I shake my head. “No, you know what? Not ‘should the need arise’, I’ll just do it anyway! Next fight, you better watch out buddy, I’m throwing myself in front of anything that comes at you!”

His eyes blow open and his voice takes on a strangled quality. “Y/n, please don’t, that’s just unnecessary—”

“Nope!” I stomp away from him, picking up branches at random. “You brought this upon yourself. Get ready to be defended!”

Before walking back to camp, I turn to give him a sickeningly sweet smile. “I love you.”

Aragorn dramatically drops his head into his hands. “I shall die from stress.”

Our companions, who obviously heard our argument, roar with laughter.

Despite the mixed feelings about our stop, our bodies all long for rest, and most find it quickly. By the time the fire dies down, only Aragorn and I remain awake. He has not moved from his position near the mouth of the cave, keeping diligent watch. Though in all honesty, I’m not sure how well he can see or hear through this darkness and wailing wind.

After a quick glance at my sleeping companions, I gather the thermos I’ve kept near to the fire, standing and walking quietly to the front of the cave. I sidle up next to the Ranger, automatically pulling my cloak tighter around me. It is freezing up here.

Aragorn gives me a sidelong glance, his lips quirking up slightly at the edges, before returning his eyes to the dark expanse in front of us. “If you are cold, you should not have strayed from the fire.”

I shrug, trying to seem less affected by the biting temperature. “I’m just getting used to the wind, is all. Besides, I cannot sleep. Would you like me to take over watch until Legolas awakes?”

At this, Aragorn actually smiles fully, shaking his head against a laugh. “You can barely see ten feet in front of you at dusk, let alone in the middle of a night during a blizzard. I thank you for your offer but must, for the safety of us all, decline.” He smirks at his dig as well as my less-than-pleased expression.

“Rude, but true enough,” I allow, biting back a smile of my own. “Well, if I cannot help with watch, perhaps I can persuade you to eat something? You have not moved from this spot since we arrived.” I bring my hand from under my cloak, presenting him with the thermos of soup I saved from supper.

He takes it gratefully, smiling into the mug after taking a sip. “Who knew Gimli was such a competent cook?”

“He must have some redeeming qualities, you know,” I jest, looking over my shoulder at our loudly snoring companion. I do love Gimli, despite how his noisiness kept me up for our first ten nights of travel.

Aragorn and I slip into an easy silence, and I let my eyes drag over the darkness in front of me. He’s right — I can’t see a thing. “Will we continue on tomorrow?” Part of me hopes that we will stay in the cave and wait out the storm, but a larger part knows that’s just wishful thinking.

Aragorn confirms my thoughts. “We will have no choice. Time is not a luxury we have…every day, the enemy grows stronger, and we are still worlds away from completing our task.”

The nearly undetectable note of vulnerability in his voice causes me to examine his face more closely. From the onset, Aragorn became the unspoken leader of our group, the one who bears the burden of many difficult choices, who picks us up and forces us on when it all becomes too much. Rare is a moment that he allows himself to express worry, or fear, or doubt, or any human emotion, really. He is trusting me here, and I don’t want to mess this up.

Thinking over my words carefully, I turn and step into his line of sight, so he has to look at me. “I believe in us, Aragorn, and I believe in you. The road ahead is long and difficult, but I know that we will accomplish our goal. The ring will be destroyed, and the evil will leave our lands.”

He regards me for a moment, saying nothing. Just when I think that perhaps he has no intention of reacting at all, he opens his cloak and pulls my back against his chest, wrapping the cloak around us once more. I relax into the arms that encircle my waist, slightly surprised at his sudden show of affection. Over our travels, we’ve had what I call ‘moments’ — spots in time where one of us tests the border of what is acceptable of a platonic relationship. This is one such instance, and nothing in me wants to object. Because here, in the midst of uncertainty and fear and the weight of the world on our shoulders, he offers himself as an anchor, a respite. I lay my head against his chest, hoping that I can do the same for him.

His lips find the top of my head and he shifts his weight to lean on me a little, obviously exhausted, despite his earlier claims. “Thank you.”

A feeling of warmth spreads through me, helping me fight my way through this cold, and I reach a hand up to rest against his neck, running my fingers through the ends of his hair.

Legolas finds us like this when he comes to switch for watch, but says nothing, allowing us to get away with nothing but a knowing smile. I return to my place near the fire, the desire for sleep heavy in my bones.

But as I begin to drift off, the slightest of sounds prompts me to open my eyes. Aragorn pulls his bedroll closer to mine, placing himself between me and the cold coming from the opening of the cave. Working hard to fight a smile, I close my eyes, and sleep much more peacefully than I have in weeks.