#lotr drabble
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Celebrían left for Aman well before Aragorn was ever born and long before Arwen ever made the Choice of Mortality.
Imagine Elrond, stepping off the ship from Middle Earth, delighted to see his wife again. They embrace, enough tears falling to drown their sorrow beneath their joy.
Once they have returned to the home she has built for her family, she asks him please, please tell me about my children, tell me of all the wondrous things they have done.
So he tells her about Elladan and Elrohir, their part in the War, their dedication to the Rangers, the kind elves they have grown to become.
When their conversation turns to Arwen, he speaks of little Estel, the boy they had taken into their home, the love that had grown between them, the world they had created for each other. Then he pauses and reaches into the wooden trunk he has brought from Rivendell.
There is a portrait, the paint still bright and vivid, of a dark-haired man with a kind gaze and a crown of silver. Beside him, Arwen stands with an ornate circlet resting on her brow. Both of their faces are aglow with happiness, lips curled with mirth.
Between them is a young boy with silver eyes that look so much like Elrond's and she knows the words that he is about to say.
But knowing does not make them ache any less.
She is not coming, Celebrían. She is not coming and I am sorry.
It seemed their family was always doomed to have one soul sundered from the others.
Eärendil from Elwing, Elros from Elrond, Celebrían from her children, Arwen from her family.
Crumpled into her husband's arms, she has only one question:
Is she happy?
Elrond smiles faintly and runs a gentle hand over her silver hair.
Oh my darling, they are in bliss. They remind me of you and I so long ago. In love so deep that not even Ulmo could pull them from its waters.
She sighs and presses a kiss to his neck, perhaps we could find that love between us again. It has been hidden for too long.
His soft laugh, tingled by bittersweet memories, makes her own heart soar.
Two pairs of lovers, separated by an ocean and time, each begin a new life together.
#lotr#lotr fic#fic#elrond#celebrian#lord of the rings#aragorn#arwen#my writing#elladan#elrohir#lotr drabble#tolkien
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hello !! hope you have a nice day <3
can you please write a soft/fluff Legolas x Reader with the drabble 2 ?
Notes: I swear the ending is cute!! But there's a silly fight first😭 it's my first time writing for Legolas, I hope you like it, good reading!
"I only think about you" - Legolas
Warnings: Legolas x gn!reader; reader is children of Elrond; mention of quarrel and fight; Legolas confused by his own feelings; SFW.
- I still don't understand why this would be my responsibility - the son questioned his father.
- Because I'm ordering! - Thranduil spoke already irritated - They are children of Elrond, and if they don't return safely from this journey, you will regret it.
And it was with this conversation that Legolas stuck with you on this long journey. You were Elrond's youngest heir, the youngest, and most irritating to Legolas. You always got into trouble, it was obvious that you would need protection. The elf prince only regretted that he was chosen for this. It wasn't enough for you to disturb his thoughts from the first time you met at the ball - your beauty able to leave him breathless and your attitude overflowing with confidence - now he was forced to put up with your physical presence too.
- Let's stop here, it's already getting dark, let's take advantage of the remaining light to set up camp - said the blonde.
You agreed, and after everything was ready, you asked for privacy to bathe in the nearby river. Legolas warned that it wasn't a good idea, but you, stubborn as ever, didn't listen and assured him that you'd be fine on your own. It was only a few minutes before the elf heard the sounds of fighting coming from the direction you were. As he approached, he soon recognized the figure that had his back to him trying to approach you in the river, it was a goblin. Without hesitation, Legolas shot an arrow right through the center of the creature's skull, which landed in front of you, revealing your traveling companion close behind.
- I told you it was a bad idea! - he approached, irritated by your carelessness.
- You didn't have to come, I had everything under control! - you shouted back.
- Really? Well, it didn't seem that way, do I always have to watch out for you?!
- If it bothers you so much you didn't have to come, you can leave, then you won't have to think about me anymore!
- I'd love not to think about you all the fucking time!
Legolas shouted from the bottom of his lungs, stressed and tired, not just from the journey, but from the feelings that were growing for you and consuming him more every day. You kept quiet, surprised because you had never seen him like this, sinking a little deeper into the water to hide your naked body more, realizing your shame only now. Legolas, who had only just realized it too, turned around to give you some privacy, but also before you could notice the blush growing on his cheeks.
- I'm sorry... That's not what I meant, I'm just tired... Let's go, if there's a goblin here there must be others nearby.
Silently, you agreed and obeyed, and after getting out of the river and changing, you broke camp and moved on.
The trip followed in silence, now an awkward atmosphere between you two, more distant than ever. Feeling responsible for that, Legolas decided to break the silence when you stopped to eat.
- I shouldn't have screamed, I'm just worried because I'm responsible for you, so if something happened to you...
- No, I understand, it was my stupid idea and... I understand if you don't want to continue the trip, I don't want to be a burden for you.
- You would never be a burden - he spoke automatically, without filtering before how revealing the words could be - Even if I left, I would keep thinking about you - and with that he decided to shut up, realizing how the words accumulated in his mind now just leave without him being able to control it.
- Really? Would you keep thinking about me even after all the stress I've caused you?
- You don't understand, I only think about you. My worry and stress would only increase if I left, because... Because I really like you - the last sentence came out as a whisper.
The blush had returned to his face, his anxious heart beating harder, his eyes unable to face you now. Legolas tried to stand firm, but he was crumbling under your lingering gaze.
- Oh, that's good to know - you smiled - because you have also been tormenting my thoughts, Legolas.
Prompt: "I'd love not to think about you all the fucking time!"
Sorry for any typos;
Buy me a coffee?
Masterlist
#legolas x reader#legolas x gn!reader#legolas#lord of the rings#lotr#legolas lotr#lord of the rings imagine#lord of the rings oneshot#lord of the rings drabble#lotr imagine#lotr oneshot#lotr drabble#legolas imagine#legolas oneshot#legolas drabble#legolas fanfic#the hobbit x reader#lotr x reader#the hobbit imagine#the hobbit oneshot#the hobbit drabble#the hobbit fanfic#lotr fanfic
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FIDELITY | ARAGON
Synopsis: The burden of sleep weighs heavily on your body and consciousness while you and Aragorn are forced to attend a banquet after a long day of riding. The only thing that makes any of this bearable is the company of each other, lost in your moment of careless whispers.
Warnings: gender-neutral reader, kinda angst ig, but also fluff???, i know this didn't actually happen before the battle in rohan, but this is fanfiction, so who cares, no spoilers. W/C: 872
Notes: This is just a little drabble while i work on actual oneshots. also, i do plan on getting to my requests; it's just taking me a lot longer than i imagined. (thank you guys so much for 200 followers, ily)
lotr masterlist
The smoke of pipeweed drifted from the slight draft, curling upwards before dissipating into the stale air. Laughter rang out; chatter boomed as the distant language of lovers remained a faint whisper, hidden behind the shadow of feelings. As each moment passed and the night grew bitter, the people grew weary, their bellies full of brew and rich food. However, you and Aragorn remained silently seated, your plates barely touched while others danced and sang with fat smiles blistering their faces.
He inhaled and exhaled, the pipe loosely caught between his forefinger and thumb, his fitted shirt clinging to his biceps while he rolled up the rest of the sleeves to his elbows, exposing the artwork of veins spiraling down his arm. His posture is loose, an arm lazily propped up while the other is slung over the polished wood, an almost foreign demeanor from the battle-hardened man you are used to witnessing.
Words evade you as you admire the details of his figure, watching his face for any hint of emotion to pick at and dissect, knowing far too well his reluctance to share his woes with you.
It's not only him that is dispirited but you as well, for you are too weary to care about much else. The two of you had battled orcs and traveled across roves of land to scout, all while you prepared Rohan for something much more fierce than anything they had ever encountered.
Both of you are beyond drained, reduced to silently basking in the presence of one another for the brief time you get to indulge in the simplicity of understanding before you must part ways. Secrecy is of the highest importance, for rumors would drag a freshly sharpened blade through your bond, which runs more profound than any mere friendship. He's a future king, and you are a hopeless romantic with a dream.
Your head comes to rest on his shoulder, and the heaviness in your eyes, threatening to pull you under is like fighting an uphill battle. Each moment you strain to stay awake, but the pressure that settles over you is too great to ignore. As each moment passes into eternity, and you fall further into the creamy fabric of his freshly washed clothes, the smell of musk integrated with the woodlands wafts to your nose, and with each breath fall, you can't help but inhale more of his homely aroma.
Aragorn moves his arm to settle around your waist, simultaneously pulling you into a more comfortable position by his side. Your eyes betray you by fluttering closed as you melt into the tenderness in which he holds you.
The chatter is white noise, and his chest's steady rise and decline is your guide to the pitfalls of sleep that claim your dreary form.
Aragorn cannot help but let his eyes wander to your stature as he grimaces. In the next hour, he would have to sneak away from the festivities with you in his arms, tucking you into your makeshift bed, only to mesmerize your face as if it would be the last time he would ever see it before leaving. Aragorn would then carry on with the charade that every waking moment he didn't spend at your side was not pure agony, ripping his soul into bloody, gruesome shreds over his yearning to be near you once more. He was resigned to being a mere bystander as you unwittingly devastate his stone heart over the laughter you share with other men- men who could provide you with the life you merit.
It's a cruel game that fate is playing with his heart, and he tries to remain impassive to his internal struggle every time he can whisk you away from prying eyes, but he's cracking under the weight of his own facade. He can tell by the way your eyes carry a concern for his sake that you know of something of that which troubles him, but he can't bear to place that burden onto you. After all, there's nothing either of you could do to ease the pain.
Aragorn brushes the hair straying into your eyes, letting his irises wander a moment longer before tearing them away. His heart longs to keep you for a moment longer, but his mind insists he takes his leave and ends your moment of tranquility, but by fault, he is a selfish man. Despite all of the caution both of you heed, his worries seem to fall away like rainwater off a building, and the consequences of indulgence become too enticing to ignore. His rational mind, just for a second, gives way to senseless logic.
Aragorn's hand stutters for a moment before falling to your head, stroking down your hair in the cover of the shadows far from the senses of anyone who might bear witness to his devotion to someone who deserves more than he could ever offer, no matter what his blood might claim. His hand pulls your hair back, only to place the barest of kisses upon the crown of your head, not enough to disturb you but enough to offer him a second of solace before your inevitable separation.
"Losto mae, meleth nin."
(translates: sleep well, my love.)
#aragorn x reader#aragorn x you#aragorn x y/n#aragorn#the lord of the rings#lord of the rings#the fellowship of the ring#aragorn drabble#lotr#lotr fanfic#lotr aragorn#little angst#x reader#gender neutral reader#lotr movies#lord of the rings fic#lord of the rings aragorn#reader insert#lotr drabble#middle earth
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rewatched the fellowship with my dad and it got me thinking about sam and frodo’s relationship.
sam—who’s been frodo’s gardener for who knows how long—going on a life-or-death adventure with the man he’s looked up to his entire life. sam’s had a crush on the cute, brown-haired boy who sits in his garden to read, who puts homemade pies on the windowsill to cool, the boy he believes will never feel the same way about him.
frodo, who watches the sweet, shy, blondie tend to his rose bushes and daisies every other day from the window in his room. never failing to notice the way sam flushes a pretty shade of pink whenever their eyes meet. frodo, who’s uncharacteristically sad at the start of every winter season and uncle bilbo can’t figure out why. frodo is practically jumping for joy when sam returns next spring with an armfull of plants to replace last season.
one fateful summer’s day, not a cloud in the sky to be seen. sam was working away in the gardens as usual, trimming bushes and pruning flowers, occasionally picking a few for a steadily growing bouquet. soon, morning became noon, and the sun had grown hotter than before, leaving sam sweating bullets.
“sam, why don’t you take a break? come inside, it’s hot out,” frodo offered through the window, elbows leaning against the frame.
the boy jumped, startled by frodo’s sudden appearance. “oh, mr. frodo! no, i’m fine, thank you. i haven’t finished cleaning the flower bed yet.” looking up from his work, sam was starstruck. a ray of sunshine illuminated frodo’s soft features perfectly. frodo’s pretty blue eyes shimmered like the color of the sky, framed by reddish-golden highlights popping up in his chocolate brown curls.
“sam? sam? are you okay?” the poor boy must’ve been staring, as frodo was waving a hand in front of his face to regain his attention. “let’s get you inside, it’s much too hot, yeah?”
sam nodded and stood, walking around to the front door. when he made it to the kitchen, he was greeted with a premade mug of his favorite tea and a tall glass of water. frodo had a mug for himself as well.
frodo looked at him with a sheepish smile, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “i already made it before i asked. thought it’d be best to have it ready and waiting, rather than having to wait for it.”
“thank you, mr. frodo. it—it means a lot that you thought about me.” sam downed the water eagerly, finishing it quickly. “didn’t realize how hot i actually was.” he smiles at frodo sweetly.
frodo gazes at him from behind his mug. “well of course i thought about you, sam. you’re my friend, aren’t you?”
“friend?” sam’s heart nearly leaped up out of his mouth and into his tea. “friend, of course.”
the couple sat at frodo’s kitchen table drinking their tea and snacking on the various foods they found in the cupboards. laughter echoed throughout the home, cute giggles pairing beautifully with one filled with wheezes. even after the snacks had gone and their mugs have dried up, they continued to enjoy one another company, eventually migrating to the living room.
sam felt like his heart was gonna beat out of his chest. they sat on the couch together, his leg pressed against frodo’s. “this was fun, thank you, mr. frodo.”
“sam, sam, please, just call me frodo,” he giggles softly, a smile still gracing his soft features. “makes me feel silly, like i’m your master or something.” frodo’s hand slowly inched its way closer to sam’s, almost inconspicuously, if not for sam’s hypervigilance.
he nodded, smiling back at him. sam blushes when frodo’s hand bumps into his. he curls his pinky around frodo’s, causing the other hobbit to blush too.
maybe he does feel the same way after all.
#jack's thoughts#this came to me in a prophetic dream#samwise gamgee#frodo baggins#sam x frodo#samfro#frodo x sam#lotr#the lord of the rings#lord of the rings#tlotr#lotr imagine#lotr drabble
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Rúmil x Trans Masc Reader
Tags: First time anal; Feelings about being Trans Masc; praise kink;, light d/s; Dom! Rúmil; no feminizing language
Minors DNI
It’s short and sweet, here ya go:
Rúmil shudders as he presses into you, his head dropping to your shoulders as he gives a bruising bite to your neck.
You hiss at the overwhelming pressure inside of you and he runs a hand down your sweat-soaked skin in response.
“Almost there” He murmurs. “Is it too much? Do you need me to stop?” He asks. You shake your head. Absolutely not; you’d spent much too long preparing for this to give up now.
“I need your words, precious boy, can you do that for me?” You tremble at his words, heart pounding. Your thoughts slam to a halt and your mouth runs dry.
Boy precious boy
You nod shakily and scramble desperately to find your voice.
“D-don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” You beg, voice rasping.
Rúmil presses a kiss to your temple and tucks your long tresses behind your ears. “Good boy. Thank you.”
You flush darkly at his praise. More, anything to get more. “Please. Please, Rúmil. Please anything I-”
Rúmil hushes you. “I’ve got you pretty boy, don’t worry. You’ve taken me so well. Such a good boy.” He leans over to press his lips to yours as he drizzles more of the oil you prefer - the viscous one scented with mallorn - over where his cock is halfway into you.
Your eyes flutter shut and you whine, arching your hips against him. Rúmil’s breath catches and his words falter for just a moment. He presses you back down against the bedding as he tsks, giving your nipple a sharp twist in punishment. You grin up at him and he smiles fondly before he suddenly rolls his hips to sink the remainder of his hard length inside of you.
#minors dni#transmasc reader#rumil of lorien#Rumil#lotr drabble#Rumil x reader#Rumil x trans masc reader#brought to you by my own thoughts and feelings#Elithilanor fics#tell me why I fucked up all the accents then had to fix them lmfao#trans reader#ftm reader#Rúmil x trans reader
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How Galadriel Became Baggins
(I did the thing anyway. A drabble/sneak peak of a late, late chapter in Flowers of Mordor. Yes, there are spoilers. But I mean, you probably already knew there was going to be a happy ending. Tags: @konartiste)
Sam hugged the little girl close to his breast, and she mewled softly.
“Why, hello there, little one,” he whispered, rocking her gently. “Shh, shh, it’s alright, uncle Sam is here.”
The baby fussed a little and quieted down, and Sam pressed a kiss to her forehead.
By now, Sam was an uncle many times over, but this little girl was going to be special, he was sure of it.
Indeed, as he held her in his arms his heart brimmed with emotion, like the first time he had held Elanor. Not only because of his feelings for Frodo – the ones he had kept to himself for the sake of the peace and harmony of all – but also because they were two of the most important people in his life, his beloved friend and his little sister, who had come together against all odds and had found their peace, joy and comfort in one another. This little girl was living proof of that – a tiny, fragile life the two of them had made. It filled Sam’s heart with happiness like nothing else, and he knew that come what may, he would cherish this child like she was his one of his own, and she would be a light in his life, and in her parents’ lives, even if all other lights went out.
“Galadriel…”
Frodo had wanted him to name her, and Sam's lips formed the word on their own accord. Like soft, radiant tendrils of silver light, the name of the great elvish lady settled on his mind, and indeed no lesser name would have been fitting, even if they had searched for a thousand years.
#lotr fanfiction#lotr fanfic#lotr fic#lord of the rings fanfiction#lord of the ring fanfic#lord of the rings fic#lotr drabble#lord of the rings drabble#lotr#lord of the things#flowers of mordor au
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Legolas x Reader
651wc
Librarian AU || In a world made for two
In the middle of the library, nestled between the tables and bookcases, is the information desk. It’s one of the round types with two little doors, and the main entrance leads right to it. When you first walked in it was unmanned. Perhaps due to the late (or rather early) hour, the library as a whole was empty, making it the perfect time to study. Without thinking much of the absent librarian, you turned on your laptop and got to work.
After managing a solid forty minutes of studying, your line of sight bounces between bookshelves before settling on the desk. It’s quiet. There’s no pittering of footsteps, rustling of pages, or clacking of computer keys. The library can’t be open without a staff member and yet there isn’t one in sight. You try to brush it off; perhaps the worker is just slacking off or taking a long break… but the nagging worry that they might be hurt won’t disappear.
With your mind set on helping, you walk toward the small swing doors guarding the desk. A rush of adrenaline courses through your veins as you push them open, body inching toward breaking the barrier between what’s acceptable and what’s prohibited. Despite your good intentions, there’s a thrill in breaking the rules. Biting your lip, your foot hovers over the threshold, on the edge of no return.
“May I help you with something?”
You swivel so fast you become dizzy. There’s a scream ready to explode from your throat at the first sign of trouble but it dies into a sigh of awe. The most ethereal man you’ve seen in your life stands before you, his arms crossed as a playful smile dances across his face. He tilts his head and a few silver strands of luscious hair frame his cheeks. If it weren’t for his official badge, you would never in a million years assume he works here.
“Well”–your eyes drop to his name tag–”Legolas, I was wonder– wait, what kind of name is that?”
Flabbergasted, you point at the name engraved on his badge. He nods, also looking down at it. It’s not something he hasn’t heard before, there’s no way he hasn’t heard it before, and yet he humours you.
“If you think mine is weird, you will not take well to my father’s.”
Your mouth falls open a little wider before you snap it shut, heat washing over your cheeks. “Sorry, that was rude. Actually I came over here to make sure you weren’t passed out on the floor or something.”
“You were worried for me?” He smiles and it’s blinding. “I didn’t want to disturb you so I was sorting books in the back.”
“Well, since you’re fine, I’ll go… back to my desk.”
Choked up with embarrassment, you rush back to your seat. Once seated you’re able to breathe again. His eyes, warm yet mischievous, were too welcoming not to fall into. But it wasn’t just his appearance; his entire demeanour felt like spring. When you gazed upon him, you could swear there were birds singing in a glade somewhere up ahead, just beyond a bubbling brook. He electrified your senses. Even in the late hour of the night, his presence brightened the room, his aura glimmering around him like a shroud of magic.
You slapped your cheeks. Exhaling sharply, you ground yourself back to reality. With your deadlines approaching, the last thing you needed was to develop a little crush on your librarian. He’s beautiful and angelic and maybe even perfect but that doesn’t mean you can get distracted by him. In fact, you should probably should never come here aga–
“Here,” he whispers, popping up behind you out of seemingly nowhere. “Some water.”
“Oh, thank you.”
Placing the bottle on the table, his voice whisks around you like a warm breeze. “Good luck with your studies.”
It’s impossible; you’re smitten.
Send Me An Idol / Character && I’ll Tell You Which AU/Trope Suits Them
#legolas x reader#lotr fluff#lotr x reader#legolas greenleaf#legolas fluff#lotr#legolas#legolas x you#legolas x y/n#lotr x you#lotr x y/n#lord of the rings#the hobbit#legolas drabble#lotr drabble
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My brain refuses to sleep, so more drabbling! Probably modern-ish AU?
Steve makes a career for himself as a re-decorator (or de-decorator, as he loves to call himself). His clientele are those celebrities who rose to fame so quickly they have plenty of money, but they don't have time to make their houses feel like home. They just bought penthouses and mansions and now live in homes that are fancy, but they feel like hotels.
Steve is there to fix that.
One of his clients is the hard working rockstar Eddie Munson whose life path went from a trailer park to couch surfing to living with 4 people in a tiny apartment, then suddenly tours, hotels and boom! He has a house that looks like an IKEA prop.
He doesn't hide his distaste at the pristine condition of the place (yes, Eddie has a cleaner). "Oh god. A beige carpet?" he scoffs and he sounds so bitchy Eddie decides he likes him already.
He likes him even more when Steve puts on reading glasses. Damn.
Over coffee, they discuss what Eddie wants. Except Steve doesn't just...tell him. He doesn't give him any hints. He just keeps asking about Eddie's favorite colors, what movies he likes, does he have hobbies apart from music? Can Steve see some of the items that bring him comfort?
And Eddie's surprised. "Shouldn't you, like...be telling me what I'm supposed to want?" he asks the gorgeous man who almost wails when he sees the vase with fresh flowers ("This is the third place in a row that has this fugly thing! Is it like a status symbol? Uh, tasteless.").
And Steve just stares at him. "Uh, Mr. Munson?"
"Eddie."
Steve nods. "Eddie. Why should I have any say in what you want? If you ask me what's practical, easy to clean, what bounces off light well, that's another thing. But in matters of taste...you're the boss. You live here, I don't. (Pity, Eddie thinks) Now, let's change this place into somewhere you actually like staying, hm?"
They spend the whole afternoon talking. Eddie opens up about what he loved before the touring and expectations from his agent took that from him. He talks about the Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons, fantasy in general, and Steve listens, makes tons of notes and asks questions that make Eddie's heart bleed, such as "and who is your favorite Lord of the Rings character?" and "you mentioned elves, dwarves, orcs, wizards...so what is your favorite group?" and "which DnD class would you be then? I guess a bard? Is that too obvious?". Now, Steve doesn't know much about these things, but learns quickly and works with the info he has.
They walk through the house again, with Steve making notes and wincing at transgressions against humanity or at least against his taste in things ("Oh ew. EW. Glossy finish on a kitchen counter? What is this, a future crime scene?") and Eddie feeling equally amused and curious. Eddie orders dinner for them, it goes something like:
"I don't know what would be appropriate, any preferences?"
"Eddie, there's no time or space when pizza is not appropriate."
"What about a funeral?"
"It puts fun in a funeral."
"Touché."
They follow up on a bunch more things. Steve notices Eddie fidgeting and asks him like the mindreader he is if perhaps the place is too clean for him. "Minimalism is what everyone's trying to push," Steve says, not without sympathy, "but it's not for everyone. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you seem like a person who'd love a more....personal, cluttered space."
And god, Eddie feels so seen. He tells Steve about all his favorite books and trinkets that he lost during a horrible earthquake in Indiana, so when he moved to the city it was just some clothes and his two guitars. Steve makes so many notes. "I've seen quite a lot of collectibles for your beloved trilogy," he says with a hint of a smile. "Is that something you'd like in your home?" Eddie can't nod any faster.
They talk about the budget (Eddie just scoffs at that, for the first time in his life money is not an issue), Eddie's absolute no go things ("No more vases, please! PLEASE. Also maybe the one room that can stay as it is is the studio, there's no decor"), if he has issues touching any materials, if he wants to keep any areas in the house neutral for visitors (he doesn't). Then finally, he asks Eddie if he wants to be more consulted or surprised.
And Eddie, tired and surprisingly relaxed from talking to Steve, just grins and says: "Surprise me, big boy."
Steve just smirks and makes one more note. "Oh, I will, Eddie."
...
Eddie goes on yet another tour for a couple of months, which is the ideal time for Steve to start working on the house.
Steve sometimes texts Eddie random choices, such as "Rohan or Gondor or both?" or "what's the best pub in the Middle Earth?" and Eddie usually trips over his feet trying to get to his phone after concerts to see if maybe he has another message from Steve. He learns bits and pieces about the man as well - he has a younger brother, Dustin, who is into the same stuff that Eddie is. Sometimes it goes like this:
STEVE: What's the best battle in the LotR movies?
EDDIE: The Ride of the Rohirrim, duh!
STEVE: Dustin says you're wrong, it's the last stand at the gates of Mordor.
EDDIE: The disrespect to king Théoden!
And finally, the big day comes. Eddie meets with Steve at the door. From the outside, the house still looks boring, but that's what they agreed on. At least for now.
But there's one notable difference and Eddie gasps when he sees it.
"I know we said no changes on the outside," said Steve sheepishly, "but I took the liberty to make one slight change."
Where the door used to be bland and white, it is now carved with silver etchings. It replicates the Doors of Durin. Eddie loves it.
Steve smiles at him. "Speak friend and enter, right? Dustin told me. Anyways, are you ready?"
Turns out, Eddie wasn't ready. Steve took all of the shiny and sterile surfaces and turned them into something beautiful.
The kitchen is now in warmer colors, brown and green, imitating the Green Dragon inn, plaque included.
Guest rooms have been changed, each to represent a group or a nation of the Middle Earth. Eddie thinks his uncle will love the Rohirrim one.
No more vases are to be seen, but Steve got potted plants ("almost immortal, as long as your housekeeper waters them once a week or so").
Eddie howls in laughter when he sees that Steve somehow managed to disguise all his security cameras as tiny eyes of Sauron.
The bathroom is inspired by the Rivendell, with soft tones and nods to Elvish architecture.
Eddie's bedroom resembles the Shire, with round shapes and homely motifs.
But Eddie's absolute favorite is the living room.
The only things that remain there that he bought are the massive TV and his stereo system with records. The rest though...
Gone is the ugly and sharp couch that looked like a geometry exercise. The new one is large and comfortable, with a couple of armchairs to finish the cozy feel. The coffee table and TV stand are more rough looking, with decorative ironwork. And then, around the room and on the walls...
"Oh wow," whispers Eddie and Steve beams at him.
There are collectibles and figurines that young Eddie Munson would have killed for. A replica of the Narsil hangs over the TV. It's cluttered but tasteful, still easy to clean, but Eddie always has something to touch, to play with.
And then he spots the bookcase and actually sobs. "What the fuck, Steve?" he asks, but there's no anger, just awe. "How did you know?"
The bookcase is full of Eddie's most beloved books, all that he told Steve about and more, but it's not just that. These aren't just pristine new prints - Steve managed to get both those and well-loved used copies. Most of them are the same editions that Eddie had before the earthquake. He runs his trembling finger over the back of the Hobbit and it feels like home.
"That was the hardest part," says Steve and leaves Eddie to rummage through the books, the old DnD guides and used comic books. "But I assumed you're sick of new and shiny. In fact, most of the collectibles are already used as well. They have some history. As for the books, uh..." He scratches his neck, embarrassed. "I will be honest, I don't read much. Dyslexia and some issues with the eyes, although audio books are making it more possible for me now. So I had to ask Dustin for help. We looked for editions published before the earthquake. I hope we got some of them right?"
Eddie just mutters "Sorry, I'm about to do something really unprofessional now" and pulls Steve into a bear hug. And Steve reciprocates.
"Fuck, this...this is everything," says Eddie into his shoulder. "How did you do this? Are you magic. You must be magic."
Steve grins. "I take it the surprise was a success then?"
Eddie finally pulls back. He would have loved to keep embracing Steve for a bit longer, but boundaries. "A total one. Wow. I mean. It's a lot, but so good. SO GOOD. How can I repay you?"
"You already paid me, Eddie."
"You know what I mean!" Eddie points and the books and apparently also a DVD collection he now owns. "This must have been so much more work than you normally do, no? I doubt every client has you memorize the members of the Fellowship."
"Not just that, but also why Sam is the best," Steve smiles at him and fuck. Eddie might be in love. "It was more than usual, but I loved it, Eddie. That's why I like my job so much, helping people find themselves again. You don't owe me anything. Although, if you're offering..."
"I'm listening."
Steve runs his fingers through that majestic hair. "So, I didn't tell Dustin that I was decorating the house for you, but he's a huge fan of your music. Like, massive, has every album, has been following your career from the start. And feel free to tell me it's too much, you are my client after all, but...he'd love to meet you. Over a pizza, maybe? The plain ham and cheese one you like so it doesn't have too many flavors?"
And Eddie melts. Because Steve still remembers his pizza choice from months ago, even though this definitely wasn't in his notes. He decides there and then that Steven Harrington is a national treasure.
"Sure, big boy," he smiles at Steve, and hopes he didn't imagine Steve leaning into the touch. "How about you invite him over for a movie night or something? With pizza of course."
It looks like Steve could kiss him, but he doesn't. Not yet. That only happens a week later, when they bump into each other in Eddie's kitchen when they scramble to make more popcorn for Dustin.
Steve stays the next night. And maybe a few after that. Always in a different themed bedroom.
They travel for work a lot, but when they are both in Chicago, they always meet in the Green Dragon kitchen, cuddle in the bed that would be far too large for a hobbit, and in the night, Eddie wraps himself around Steve and whispers: "My preciousssss."
And Steve can't really complain, because it's his fault that his boyfriend has re-discovered his dorkiness, so why would he mind?
#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddie#steddie drabble#stranger things drabble#steddie au#steddie fanfiction#dustin henderson#lotr steddie#ish#lord of the rings steddie#not proofread we die like Boromir MY BOY#ahem this got long#Steve the redorkifier Harrington#Eddie the reemerging dork Munson
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Watcher of Wanderers [Legolas/F!Reader]
A.N: this was intended just to be a mini one-shot to get back into writing. although, I will admit I got carried away. oops. heh.
Pairing: Legolas X F!Reader
Song Inspo: Mountain Meditation by Chantress Seba
🌬️ I highly recommend listening while reading
Summary: Legolas senses a presence following the fellowship on their journey and it seems to be particularly fond of him.
Disclaimer: all mythology related to the reader was made up for plot purposes lol. not canon.
Word count: 5.6k (once again, idk why I’m like this)
Warnings: comfort, fluff, loneliness, flirting, suggested sexual innuendos, stalking sort of (yes, again, I know. you’re just gonna have to read it I can’t explain it)
Additional Content: moodboard linked here
MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD
When you are nothing but a breeze that passes through the travelers’ bending hair. When you are nothing but a tickle that brushes upon the vagabonds’ breaking skin. When you are nothing but a whisper that hisses upon the wanders’ deaf ear. When you are nothing but alone, you too are a voyager.
That’s what (Y/N) was, wasn’t she?
She sailed through the years, watching every war and every battle. She observed every lover as she observed every enemy. She attended to them all, from their start and to their end. She perceived them hunt—first for food and drink, the simplest things, then for more. She witnessed them build—smaller creations in the beginning, then large structures that reached deep into her sky. She gazed at them as they grew, in mind and body. They began as little screaming balls of flesh, then sprouted into large beings that walked and talked. They produced more of themselves. They multiplied. Families, they had called it. She saw each one of them go by, twisting with desire as they did with age. Each was sneaking to find something—riches, power, hope, love, safety—but it didn’t really matter. She just bore witness. She bore witness to the happiness and to the dread. Yet, even when it was dark and desperate, she did nothing. She was silent—as she was meant to be.
Cursed to ride the winds for all of her immortal years.
Cursed to guide them and bend them.
Cursed to behold them.
Cursed to be them.
Alone.
A Watcher of Wanderers.
She was unescorted, unattended, and unchaperoned. She was unaccompanied as she wove through the desolate lands of Arda. Through the oceans, through the deserts, through the mountains, she bent and bellowed. But (Y/N) didn’t need anyone to accompany her, for she simply didn’t exist—at least not in the way one would think.
But after so long in solidarity, watching and observing, (Y/N) wondered what it would feel like to be more than what she was. She wondered what it was to taste and touch, to smell and see, to live and breath.
She thought how pain must feel. How did it bring red to the surface of their skin? How did it bring tears to their eyes? How did it bring screams to their throats?
Still, she wandered more.
She thought how laughter must feel. How did it bubble in their chests? How did it bring water to their faces? How did it bring glee from their mouths?
Still, she wandered more.
She thought about how love must feel. How did it soften their gazes? How did it bring drops upon their cheeks? How did it bring proclamations to their lips? How did it feel to welcome in another soul? Was it safe—not that she would know what safety felt like.
Still, she wandered more.
As each day passed and each traveler followed, she continued to question, guess, inquire.
Some of these creatures were more in tune with the natural currents of the word. It was the immortal beings, distinguished by the pointy ears that lent them an air of otherworldly grace and their lightning-quick reflexes. They were not just any immortals, but those whose lineages stretched back to ancestors who had walked among the Valar themselves. At times, (Y/N) entertained the fantasizing notion that they possessed the rare ability to hear her, though she recognized that this belief was nothing more than wishful thinking. As a watcher of wanderers, she liked these ones best.
Yet that did not mean that others did not catch her eye, for she was curious of anything unusual from the regular patterns of life. And when nine—born of various blood—walked together, her curiosity peaked.
So, she followed them.
One was a Maiar, but not like her. He shared the same celestial origin, shaped as one of the spirits meant to aid the Valar in their worldbuilding endeavors. However, his form differed greatly from hers—a form (Y/N) yearned for. She had seen him many times before, puffing his pipe. He had many names, but most knew him as Gandalf.
Two more figures accompanied him, mortal beings aging like the rolling seasons. Burling and tumbling they went, with their countless heavy weapons. One emanated kindness, his heart a wellspring of warmth. She had seen him before too. But the other, he was….troubled.
Another was one of the immortal, graceful, pointy-eared race—elves, she recalled. He was fluid and elegantant. He was observant and evaluating. He was tranquil yet vigorous. (Y/N) liked this one. She always had liked the elves.
From the mountainous regions of unyielding stone came another companion—a burly and gruff figure. His anger resonated in the sharpness of his words and the boastry of his laughter. (Y/N) could feel his temperament through the earth's vibrations. It wasn't always pleasant
Next, matched four more. They were stompers and stumblers, in a clumsy sort of way; yet, it was evident that they held no desire to ravage the earth. If anything, they seemed to harbor deep affection for it. The sad one broke her heart, the kind one warmed her soul, and the last two made her giggle….and sometimes she thought the elf could hear it.
See that was the thing.
Initially, her fascination led her to accompany them, drawn by their sheer otherness—such a strange assembly of beings walking in unison. But as she ventured alongside them, she felt connected to them. She got to know them, and one seemed to know her….sorta.
The first time she noticed such a thing was when a sound of joy escaped her being.
The two silly ones, which she found out to be named Merry and Pippin, were cracking jokes at one another and performing a game of riddles. As they did so, they ended up breaking into an argument. The most ridiculous words they called each other: mushroom murderer, squash squisher, beet beater…..
She couldn’t help but release a whisper of amusement, and when she did, the elf—Legolas—abruptly halted. His eyes brimmed with uncertainty, and he swiveled his head, as though searching for someone.
But he couldn’t….
No…
He couldn’t have heard her….could he?
Of course, occasionally, all could hear her. In moments of anger, she would unleash her fury with deafening howls and piercing screams, causing gusts to bellow and trees to tremble. Her yell created a hollow sound as it funneled through the rest of the world—echoing upon mountains, bouncing off houses, riding along hills, drifting through the farmer’s mills. It took much frustration to create such a ruckus of vibrations. However, just a faint breath of joy? There was no way the elf could hear that….right?
…..
The second time that a strange encounter occurred was when the group stopped by a deep river. Legolas had wandered a little way away from the group where the trees were denser and the light was less, and oh of course (Y/N) followed.
There, the elf stripped off his clothing, letting the moonlight bend and dip upon his muscled form. The cool night air played gently against his bare skin as he ventured into the water, welcoming the invigorating sensation. With his hands, he meticulously scrubbed away any lingering grime, running his palms across his arms and fingers through his damp hair until no trace of dirt remained.
Gently, he laid upon his back, floating at the surface of the smooth river.
(Y/N) watched as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply and repeatedly. Meditation, she recalled the elvish creatures of the world calling it.
Eager to draw nearer, (Y/N) gracefully glided closer, brushing ever so lightly upon the surface of the ripples. She circled him, her gaze drinking in every detail of his form slightly obstructed by the water—his elegant facial features, his sleek hair, his sculpted biceps, his toned abs, the sharp v-line of his lower abdomen, and, she couldn't help but notice his rather large…
A soft giggle escaped her lips, her warm breath brushing against his cheek.
Instantly, Legolas sprang upright, his feet finding a place upon the rocks beneath the now turbulent ripples. He swiftly pivoted, calling out, “Who’s there?!”
(Y/N) was still, shock and uncertainty shrouding her.
Legolas' cerulean eyes darted anxiously from side to side, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He moved with haste, continually spinning around in search of…..something.
“You…you can hear me?” (Y/N) whispered.
He did not respond and his state did not change. There was not an ounce of any recognition across his features.
…..
The third time that Legolas was startled by the curious enigma that appeared to be haunting him was when the fellowship had set up camp for the night.
Gandalf and Legolas were on watch, their attentive gazes shifting from the crackling fire to the perimeters of their camp. Mithanduil contentedly puffed on his pipe, releasing wisps of smoke that ascended into the night sky. Legolas was methodically sharpening the tips of his arrows, preparing for the inevitable fight. The ambiance was strangely peaceful, with the imminent dangers appearing to be held at bay, at least for the moment, even in the face of the dread.
However, this serene atmosphere suffered a sudden intrusion, initiated by (Y/N)'s ever-present curiosity.
She loved watching the creatures of Arda. It was her favorite pastime over the eons. Well, her only pastime. After all, she was a watcher of wanderers. For, as her shapeless form, there was nothing more she could do with her existence.
Therefore, when the elf began to draw whetstone upon the tops of his arrows, (Y/N) wanted to observe. She crept closer to him, becoming entranced by the rhythmic and tranquil nature of his movements. Drawn into the spectacle, she leaned in further and further until, unintentionally, she brushed lightly against his form.
His hand instinctively reached for his shoulder as his wide cerulean blues initiated their frequent and fervent scanning of the dim surroundings—a routine that seemed to be occurring with increasing regularity nowadays.
Gandalf’s gray eyes drifted upon the elf curiously, his bushy brows lifting in questions.
“I swore…” Legolas began, still peering about the campsite. “I swore I felt…something.”
The wizard’s inquiring gaze only deepened, imploring the elf to add more to his rather empty statement.
Noticing Gandalf's unspoken request for more information, Legolas continued, "My apologies, Mithranduil. Lately, I've been sensing a presence. Yet, when I search for it, I'm met with nothing but emptiness and confusion."
Gandalf huffed before pressing his lips to his pipe again, his gaze drifting away in a dismissal of danger. “It is probably just (Y/N).”
“(Y/N)?” He questioned, still puzzled.
Gandalf glanced at Legolas, and with a nonchalant hum, he spoke again. “The spirit of the wind. A Maiar with a form that knows no shape.” He rolled his eyes as he gruffed out an additional mumbling sentence. “She has a particular fondness for elves.”
Legolas, still flushed with adrenaline, only stared at him. “I—I do not understand.”
The wizard’s gray gaze drifted back to the elf, who was clearly seeking answers. “(Y/N) is one of the Maiar, tasked many ages ago by Manwë to help shape Arda. She still lingers in this realm, often stirring up her usual mischief as she follows wanderers on their adventures."
Legolas frowned. “If she wanders this earth, why can I see her not?”
Gandalf drew another puff from his pipe before responding, "She was cursed to be without form, unlike myself."
“Cursed? But why?”
The wizard raised his bushy brows once more. “Her mischief irked many—especially Manwë.”
“What sorts of mischief do you speak of?”
Gandalf shrugged. “Inconsequential pranks and harmless tricks. Quite frankly, an annoyance to us all, but not dangerous.”
At that very moment, a gust of wind swept in rather forcefully, causing the wizard's beard to billow and lifting his hat into the air, sending it spiraling down to land by his feet.
Legolas's lips parted in surprise as the wind subsided, and Gandalf let out a string of curses and grumbles.
"I believe you might have offended her," Legolas remarked, amusement dancing in his eyes.
The wizard snorted, his irritation obvious, as he picked his hat up and placed it atop his head once more.
….
As the weeks continued on, Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s subtle presence.
It seemed she was indeed traveling with them. On scorching hot days, a refreshing breeze would rise and caress them gently, offering some much-needed relief. As the autumn months settled in, that coolness transformed into a warm breath flowing through the air, comforting them. When they kindled fires, little gusts rushed forward, providing oxygen and nurturing the flames. If an item of clothing or a parcel were dropped, it would be delicately carried toward a hand ready to collect. It was as if the wind—(Y/N)—was assisting them along their quest.
It was particularly noticeable to Legolas that she often lingered in close proximity to him. Her presence seemed to envelop him frequently, becoming unmistakable and distinct.
When Legolas would be tasked to collect firewood, a gentle breeze would follow him. It would brush leaves out of the way to reveal dry wood and small sticks, perfect for kindling. The wind murmured songs among the soil, almost as if it were beckoning him to dance.
When Legolas would be hunting for food, a calm drift would search alongside him. It would twist through the brush, startling small prey to reveal them to him. The wind breathed wordless encouragement to him, as if challenging him to impress her.
When Legolas would be walking upon hard terrain, a playful gust would walk with him. It would blow his hair away from his face to reveal his features. The wind sent flirtatious laughter upon his elvish ear, chasing shivers along his nerves.
When Legolas would be changing out of mud or blood covered clothes, a devious wisk would linger behind him. It would push his tunic and undershirt upwards to reveal his muscled form then make his extra clothing scatter. The wind whispered sultry glee to him, teasing him in efforts to show more.
This mischievous presence that shrouded him seemed to flirt with him—challenge, play, and engage. Of course, Legolas recalled Gandalf's earlier assertion that the wind spirit held a particular fondness for elves, but the true depth of this fondness had only become apparent as her companionship persisted. He couldn't deny that their ongoing interaction held a certain allure, for he would be lying if he said their little game did not entertain him.
When the fellowship was in Moria, however, silence reigned. The usual gusts and breezes that had accompanied them were absent. It was as if the very air mourned with them. Yet, as soon as they exited, with grief heavy upon their soul, a quick adrenalized wind came to find them. It seemed to brush around the rocks, taking in the pain of the travelers and trying to process what it meant. Though, as the wind noticed one was no longer there, she took to sending warmth their way in hopes to soften the sorrow—shrouding Legolas for just a moment longer than the others.
When the fellowship was in Lothlorien, (Y/N) came too. Rustling up trouble among the elves with flirtatious gusts, lifting skirts and sweeping away cloaks, fostering much annoyance and embarrassment among the immortal elven folk. However, those brushes of wind often struck Legolas more than any other.
When the fellowship—or rather the three that remained—took to sprinting across Arda, the wind ran alongside them. It pushed them forward with encouragement, almost too eagerly and too persistent. It was as if she was whispering ‘hurry hurry’ in their ears—as if she possessed knowledge they did not. Though Legolas suspected neither Gimli nor Aragorn noticed the subtle guidance of the wind.
A watcher of wanderers indeed.
As the group arrived in Rohan, their hearts brimmed with renewed hope, for they had gained the knowledge of Merry and Pippin’s life and the presence of Gandalf.
Following Mithranduil's expulsion of the sorcery that had ensnared King Théoden, the weary travelers were ushered to various chambers where they could refresh themselves and find much-needed rest.
Legolas opted to bathe immediately, determined to liberate himself from the accumulated dirt and grime that had clung to his body through the arduous months of travel. He eased into the in-ground basin, the soothing warmth and enveloping steam creating a cocoon of comfort. He tended to his skin and hair with meticulous care until he finally felt rejuvenated. Elves did not like to linger in grime.
Emerging from the bath, he stepped into the adjacent bedroom, where his gaze was drawn to the open windows, allowing the cool breeze to waft in. The wind seemed to recognize him instantly, rushing forth with an almost mischievous enthusiasm. It nearly yanked his towel from his waist! It was only through his quick reflexes that he narrowly avoided a less than modest reveal.
Legolas ground his teeth. “(Y/N),” he mumbled in a chastising tone.
In response, the wind seemed to giggle, as if playfully toying with him.
He rewrapped the towel and hastened to close the windows, yearning for a night of undisturbed peace. Normally, he would tolerate (Y/N)'s whimsical outbursts, but on this night, his weary body and mind craved respite and tranquility.
Legolas changed into more comfortable attire and settled into his bed. He allowed his heavy eyelids to drift shut, for he craved sleep. But after a brief moment, they snapped open.
He watched as the curtains shifted ever so slightly, followed by the tapestry on the wall and the drapes above his bed. The blanket beside him rustled gently, and then, there was no movement in the room.
She hadn't left when he closed the windows.
She was still here.
Though he couldn't see her, he was acutely aware of her presence…right beside him.
The elf couldn't help but blush, a warm crimson hue creeping up upon his ears and cheeks. Oh, if his Ada knew he was flirting with the wind….
In an effort to divert his thoughts from such matters and avoid giving (Y/N) any indication that he was dwelling on them, the elf shifted onto his side, turning away from the playful Spirit whose home was the sky.
…..
Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s presence among the battles at Helms Deep and the Fields of Pelennor; although it wasn't until the latter that he knew for sure she was actively fighting alongside him.
Amidst the relentless chaos, the elf wielded his two silver blades, using them with deadly precision to cut the throat of one orc and immediately behead another. He swiftly pressed on, eliminating as many of the enemy forces as he could.
The men around him were growing weary, their energy dwindling, but Legolas continued to stand firm, even though he too felt the drain on his strength.It seemed the dark forces had taken notice of the relentless devastation he was causing among their ranks, as they began to single him out. Hordes of orcs began converging on him, and Sauron's archers took aim. However, the arrows meant for him didn't find their mark. They veered off course, curving with an unexpected gust of wind, plunging directly into three orcs nearby.
Legolas whipped his head around in astonishment, but it took only a moment for him to grasp the source of this unexpected intervention: (Y/N).
As he continued to take down orc after orc, she remained by his side, using her ethereal presence to force the creatures back into one another, granting Legolas a distinct advantage and a brief moment to catch his breath. She deflected arrows aimed at him and extended her helping hand when he faced the Oliphaunt. She even lifted him up with a gentle drift when his footing faltered. (Y/N) followed Legolas throughout the battlefield, her commitment unwavering, even after the war had drawn to a close.
Exhausted and burdened by grief and relief, the mortal, battle-weary soldiers sought solace and took to rest, heal, and eat.
Legolas volunteered to wander the battlefield in search of any survivors.
He tread carefully, his feet moving softly over the blood-soaked and red-stained earth. The ground seemed to bear witness to the agony, uncertainty, and hope that had marked their strenuous journey. Legolas had never anticipated surviving the trials that had befallen him, yet here he stood, alive and persevering against all odds.
With a heavy heart and the absence of survivors to be found, Legolas, fatigued and drained, decided to make his way back to his comrades who were attending to the wounded and offering peace to those in need.
In a sudden fierce gust of wind, Legolas found himself surrounded by an unexpected swirl. Swiftly, he whirled around, his keen elven senses alert, just in time to witness an orc raising an axe menacingly above his head, poised to strike.
However, Legolas was not met with such a gruesome fate. The wind seemed to rise against the approaching beast, as though an invisible force hindered its advance. However, that force began to no longer be invisible. A strange, translucent figure began to materialize into the opaque form of a woman. She stood, her back pressed against his chest and her front pushing firmly against the would-be assailant. With her arms raised high, she held the axe at bay, preventing the deadly blow from falling upon the elf.
Legolas' lips parted in astonishment, his eyes widening as he struggled to comprehend the event unfolding before him. But everything transpired too swiftly for him to intervene. The figure solidified, to the point that he could feel her against him, and the axe came down at an unusual angle, slicing into the woman's side.
A cry escaped her throat, and she collapsed to the ground, her pain echoing through the air.
Suddenly thrust back into the harsh reality of battle, Legolas swiftly grasped the knife strapped to his belt. In one fluid motion, he drove the blade into the orc's heart. The creature gurgled for a moment, blood pooling from its mouth, before finally collapsing lifeless.
Without hesitation, Legolas fell to the unconscious woman crumpled at his feet. His heart clenched with dread as he noticed the crimson stains spreading across the delicate, iridescent fabric that cloaked his form.
"No, no, no," he murmured, his hands pressing against the wound in a frantic attempt to stop the bleeding. Panic tinged his voice as he glanced at her face, his voice rising in desperation, " (Y/N), you foolish Maiar. Why did you intervene? Why did you put yourself in harm's way?" His bloodied hand gently cupped her cheek. "Wake up. Come on, wake up!"
She remained unresponsive.
Swiftly, Legolas gathered her into his arms, keeping one hand pressed against the bleeding wound, and hurried towards the makeshift infirmary.
Pushing the doors open, he called out in a voice laced with fear, "Aragorn!"
Immediately, the urgent tone drew the attention of those nearby, even in the midst of the ongoing chaos of the healing ward. The Ranger, alerted by the distress in his friend's voice, swiftly moved past the curious onlookers, with Gimli at his side and Gandalf following not too far behind.
“A-an ax to the side. She’s bleeding heavily,” he sputtered out. “Please.”
Pointing to a makeshift bed, Aragorn commanded. ‘Get her on that cot! Quickly now.”
Gimili, entirely bewildered by the unfolding events and his friend’s frantic behavior, called out, “Laddie, who is that?!”
Legolas, gently placing her form on the cot, didn't even bother to look at his dwarf companion as he replied. “(Y/N).”
The dwarf shook his head and raised his hands in confusion. “Who the fuck is (Y/N)?!”
The elf sent Gimli a quick, almost exasperated glance. "The wind!" he snapped back, a bit too sharply.
Gimli’s eyes drifted around the room, his confusion turning into concern for his friend’s well being. “The wind?” he questioned. “Did ya happen to get knocked in the head, tree boy?”
It was Gandalf that chimed in. “(Y/N), a Maiar, the spirit of the wind. She has been with us throughout our journey.”
Aragorn shot the wizard a brief look as he swiftly cut away the mysterious, translucent fabric cloaking the woman and began tending to the deep, bleeding wound.
“With us the entire time?!” Gimli bellowed. “Then why haven't I seen her once?"
Gandalf peered over Aragorn’s shoulder. “She doesn't have a corporal form. At least, she didn’t. I’m afraid this is the first time any of us are seeing her.”
Legolas ran his bloodied hands through his hair, his fingers trembling with anxiety as he stepped back. His chest felt constricted with worry while his eyes remained fixated on the woman as Aragorn worked. “Can you do it, Aragorn? Can you save her?” he implored, his voice quivering with a mixture of desperation and hope.
The man met Legolas' gaze. His determination to save her was unwavering, even in the face of this strange reveal of a profound connection between a force he didn't know existed and his dear friend. Seeing Legolas’ pain, he responded firmly, "I will try."
Gimli, moving to stand beside the wizard, watched the scene with a mixture of concern and curiosity. He couldn't help but murmur, "I've never seen him so frazzled before." His words were filled with a deep sense of empathy for his elven friend, for this had clearly shaken Legolas to his core.
Gandalf let his gaze shift from the elf to Gimli, offering the dwarf a knowing look in response.
The watcher of wanderers had now become a wonder to the wanderers themselves.
……
Legolas sat in a chair beside (Y/N). He was quiet and still as he watched her chest rise and fall steadily. Aragorn had successfully treated her wound, preventing infection, though she remained unconscious. She rested soundlessly, her expression peaceful—despite Legolas’ bloody handprint, now brown, dried, and cracking, that lingered upon her cheek. Her features were graceful and elegant. Each curve and bend of her face accentuated her beauty. He wasn't sure what he had expected her to look like, though how she appeared made sense with her temperament. He could see her flirtatious streak, her mischievous tone, and her protective aurora. She was exactly what wind would be: strong yet gentle, fierce yet calm, emotional yet stern.
He watched over her, just as she had watched over him. So intently, that he didn't notice one behind him until a hand pressed firmly upon his shoulder.
"Legolas," Aragorn began, his expression filled with gentle concern as he inquired, "How do you know this woman?"
Legolas sighed, keeping his gaze on her. "She has been traveling with us," he explained.
The sound of wood scraping against stone told the elf that the Ranger pulled a nearby chair over to sit next to him.
“So Gandalf said. Though I do not understand,” Aragorn admitted.
Legolas shifted. “I started to notice strange occurrences—unexplained events.”
Aragorn raised a brow, “Strange occurrences?”
Legolas felt his cheeks heat as he cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, but more importantly, I noticed something helping us. Consistently.” He paused, “I asked Mithranduil about it and he told me of her.” He shook his head. “He said she was cursed to watch us—us inhabitants of Arda—and not be able to walk among us.”
“Then how is she here now before us, like this.”
Legolas glanced at his hands, a hint of nervousness in his expression. “I asked Mithranduil that too,” he admitted. “He said her sacrifice must have ended her limbo.” He then let his eyes land on his friend and he spoke once more, his tone almost fearful and definitely shy—something Aragorn had never seen from the elf. “If she doesn't survive, because of me, will Arda have wind no longer? I haven't felt a single breeze since she fell.”
Aragorn sighed. “I do not know, my friend. I do not know.” He reached forward and placed his hand upon his shoulder. “Please go clean up and rest. You are no good to her like this. I will take care of her, I promise.”
Legolas hesitated, “But what if she wakes?”
The Ranger sighed again, “If she wakes, I will send someone to—”
He was interrupted by a soft groan escaping from the lips of the Wind Spirit.
Instantly, both Legolas and Aragorn turned to look at the woman.
Her eyelids lazily blinked open, and she gradually became aware of her surroundings. A frown creased her face as she emitted another groan. Her hand moved slowly, making its way down to her bandaged side.
"What... what is this feeling?" she murmured to herself, puzzled by the sensations.
To her astonishment, Legolas responded, “Pain.”
She scrambled to sit upright in bed, the pain surging through her body but the sheer force of adrenaline propelled her actions. “You–you can hear me?” she whispered, eyes wide.
Legolas moved closer, taking a seat on the edge of the cot. In a gentle tone, he answered, "I can hear you. I can see you." He tenderly raised his hand to her cheek, resting it on the dried bloody mark already there. "And I can feel you."
A hushed gasp escaped her lips as she reached up to touch his hand. "It's... it's warm," she remarked, her voice filled with surprise. "I didn't expect it to be warm."
The elf smiled gently in response.
A mischievous smirk then graced her lips, and her gaze, rather unmistakably, wandered down his figure and briefly settled upon his pants. “Is everything this warm?” she inquired with a teasing tone.
Taken aback by her words and her brazen gaze, he cleared his throat. A noticeable flush crept across his cheeks and ears as he broke eye contact. With that, Legolas turned to face Aragorn, who stood behind him with raised eyebrows and a playful grin forming at the corner of his mouth. “My apologies, Aragorn.” He glanced back at the Wind Spirit. “(Y/N), this is—”
She interrupted him, her eyes on the other man. “I know who he is,” she said with confidence. “Aragorn, son of Arathorn the second, also called Strider or Wingfoot, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and the Uncrowned King of Gondor.”
The expressions on both men's faces contorted, morphing to sheer astonishment—how did she know all that?
(Y/N) grinned sheepishly. "I am the wind," she confessed. "I see and hear a great deal."
…..
The Minas Tirith Castle was cloaked in the deep shroud of a late moonlit night as Legolas walked through its ancient halls. The soft flickering of torchlight painted wavering shadows on the weathered stone walls, lending an atmosphere that resonated with the weight of its history. His footsteps were silent as he moved, and his thoughts followed suit, meandering through the corridors of his mind.
However, up ahead, a figure bathed in a gentle glow caused Legolas to abruptly halt in his tracks, his thoughts instantly converging on the woman.
“(Y/N),” he called out, approaching her. “What are you doing away from the House of Healing? You shouldn't be out of bed. You should be resting!”
She let out an exasperated sigh, not appreciating his chastising tone. "I am a watcher of wanderers, Legolas. Therefore, I too am a voyager. It is not in my nature to stay still."
Legolas released a heated breath through his nose. “That may be true, but you now have a corporal form. No longer are you just a breeze.”
She rolled her eyes, shifting her feet to hide the persistent pain emanating from her side. “I may not be a breeze any longer, but I still control all the winds of Arda. I could knock you on your ass in seconds, injured or not.”
Legolas chuckled lightly. “I never would have gotten involved with the wind if I knew she was so temperamental,” he teased.
(Y/N), suppressing a grin, responded with a snarky retort. “Oh, so we are involved, are we?”
The elf sent her a look, trying to hide his expression of amusement. “I would be naive to think that all the times the wind flirted with me, it was just a ploy.”
“Maybe I enjoy a ploy from century to century, Legolas,” she replied.
He laughed lightly at her jest, then took a step closer, his demeanor shifting to one of seriousness. Gently, he pressed his hand to her bandaged side. “(Y/N),” he began softly. “Why did you do it? Why did you get in between that orc and I?”
She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with sincerity. “You know why.”
“Say it,” he commanded.
“Because,” she began, her tone becoming shy and soft. “Because, I—I love you.”
Instantly, Legolas wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her close to him. He pressed his lips fervently against hers. As their mouths met with equal intensity, he tasted the essence of the wind. And oh, it tasted of adventure, suffering, and joy. It tasted of warm bread from the north, bitter nuts from the east, clear water from the south, and fresh fruit from the west. It tasted of eons and eons of wandering, yet still, she tasted of home. Her hands found their way into his golden locks of hair, twisting and tugging it lightly. He allowed her to siphon off his heat, for the wind was often cold and bellowing. Though, he could tell she was taking more than just his warmth—she was taking his love; and oh, he gladly gave it to her.
…..
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you guys seemed to enjoy my cringe-fail legolas sexy gimli post so here’s some more of my thoughts ab that dynamic:
-when legolas goes home and announces his engagement to gimli thranduil is shocked but every other elf is like “yeah checks out. that kid’s always been a little weird.”
-gimli goes home to announce his engagement to legolas and every dwarf promptly loses their SHIT at the fact that THE gimli, son of gloin, is betrothed. only to further lose their shit at the fact that it’s to that weird elf prince that they have never heard speak unless to send some sort of diplomatical message for his father but some dwarflings once saw him sobbing in front of a tree in the middle of a rainstorm while gripping a fallen branch.
-thranduil only gives his blessing to the proposal once he realises just how angry all of erebor is that their most eligible bachelor, gimli, the silver-tongued battle ready diplomant and descendant of kings, has been stolen away by thranduils weird tree-hugging naked star gazing hippie son.
#legolas#thranduil#legolas thranduilion#legolas greenleaf#lotr#gigolas#i’m on my cringefail elf bullshit#gimleaf#mirkwood#gimli#gimli son of gloin#tolkein#i genuinely want to write a fic ab this but i’m currently in the process of writing a very Large fic that is taking up most of my time…#maybe i can make some drabbles about them though#who knows!#are kid dwarfs called dwarflings or have i commuted some sort of egregious error here#cringefail legolas
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Do you ever wonder that, after he arrived in the Undying Lands with Gimli, Legolas felt this crushing regret that maybe if he'd just fought harder, pleaded and begged more, Aragorn might have been allowed to come with?
He convinced them to allow Gimli across the sea, why couldn’t Aragorn, King of Gondor and Child of Imladris, join them in eternal glory?
And there is one day, when the sorrow overwhelms him knowing it will be so long before he sees his friend again, that Gimli finally sits him down:
“It is the Gift of Men that their lives have an end, it is the way the world was made. And while I know you ache to see him again just as I do, we will see him when the Second Song is sung. The Three Hunters will be once more, with new land to explore and adventures abound. You knew such a day would come for Aragorn - and for me - and yet you became friends with us anyway.”
“I thought I would be prepared for it, in the end. But instead I find that it is worse than any other sorrow. Why should he be denied what he, out of all of us, deserves most? Eternity’s rest after a lifetime of authority and strife?”
“That is a question you must ask of Ilúvatar yourself, my friend. They know the ways of this world far better than me.”
“When the world is made anew, do you think... he will remember us?”
“Lad, if that foolish man does not, I shall shave his ridiculous beard off myself.”
#sorry this came out way sadder than intended#I was just having some Thoughts™ while on the train#lotr#legolas#aragorn#gimli#lotr drabble#lord of the rings#fic#lotr fic#my writing
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Fili: their’s only one place I think y/n could be…
Kili and Dwalin: *nodding solemnly*
Thorin: well?
Fili: here *points on map of erebore*
Thorin: wait what? that’s in my quarters-
Dwalin: well, in your bed to be specific-
#the hobbit#dwalin#fili and kili#fili durin#kili durin#kili#thorin oakenshield#thorin x reader#x reader#lmao#drabble#fluff#tolkien#the company of thorin oakenshield#the company x reader#lotr#my work#gender neutral reader#genderfluid#fem reader#male reader#thorin oakenshield x reader#gender neutral y/n#gender fluid#i write
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Warm Hands | Legolas x gn!reader (🍋)
『••✎••』
↳ ❝ Legolas
81 “It’s been a long time” ❞
: ̗̀➛ Legolas finally comes home, but he finds you in a slightly... desperate situation.
: ̗̀➛ anal sex, anal fingering, swearing, praise kink
↳ @thesnowurzikdjinn
: ̗̀➛ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•
You were cold as you laid in bed, shivering and shaking beneath the thick fur blankets that seemed suddenly too thin; a slight breeze rolled through, although the windows and doors were closed tightly. It was dark out, the early hours of the morning starting to gently crawl through as the seconds trickled down like thick honey.
Slowly, slowly.
It was a shame, really, as you weren't used to sleeping alone; usually, Legolas was beside you, cuddled into you with his head either on your chest or his face pressed against the side or back of your neck.
He always felt so warm, and you suddenly hated the fact that you often told him to go away during the summer months when it was too hot for him to hold you; you should never have taken him for granted. You knew that, now.
You turned onto your side, rubbing your legs together and quickly running your hands up and down your biceps in a small hope that you could gain some, even just a little bit, of warmth. Missing Legolas and his soft, warm hands so terribly.
Promising to never take him for granted again.
You didn't even notice when the door opened, hardly able to hear it over the harsh creaking of the old bed frame beneath you; you never heard his footsteps, he was always so quiet, but the sight of his light hair and his soft smile in the darkness made you breathe out a sigh of relief.
You dared to leave the bed, attaching yourself to his body tightly as you nearly wept.
"Oh, I missed you!"
Legolas grinned, putting an arm around you as he felt your hand graze his own. "You're cold... why don't you use the blanket my father made for you?"
You shrugged, not really sure how to explain that you always felt bad for using it; it was a beautiful, soft and plush blanket that was always, always so warm and so snug.
You didn't want to ruin it, didn't want to wash off the smell of stardust or, even worse, infect it with your scent. You always felt terrible for using it, you just could never find the words to explain it properly to Legolas.
"I want your warmth," you whispered, taking his hands in yours as you smiled. "It's been so long, and I missed you so much, and..."
He didn't hesitate, kissing you softly as he cupped your cheeks with both hands, guiding you to the bed and laying you down; kissing you so gently and so softly as his warm, skilled hands worked to undress you.
Once the pile of clothes on the floor formed, Legolas smiled, running his hands up and down your body as he admired it so carefully; looking at each and every inch with adoration.
You couldn't help the quiet moan that escaped you, feeling his warm hands everywhere and the slight burning sensation that each little gentle caress left behind against your cold skin.
You squirmed beneath him, taking his wrist and gently guiding him down, but he paused just above your waist, tilting his head to the side as he hummed.
"I thought you only wanted my warmth."
You frowned a little, aching and needy all at once. "Legolas, don't be a fool, please... I want you, need you."
He withdrew, kneeling between your calves as he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before diving back in for another kiss; easily, he coaxed you onto your stomach.
Pausing for a moment to admire the shape of your ass; he let his hand rest on your cheek, leaning over you, his voice harsh and low. Mere huffs of air mixed with a few odd sounds.
"Are you sure you want this?"
"Yes," you breathed out, rolling your hips. "Please."
Legolas was gone by the time you turned around, only to return with some water based liquid; he groaned softly as he slipped two fingers in your ass to work the liquid against your tight walls, preparing you for him all too easily.
He tried to be quick, trying to satisfy your demands for him to hurry up and fuck you, but he needed to be thorough. Stretching your ass with his fingers and praising you gently, the warmth from his body radiating onto your back.
You begged one final time, and Legolas knew he couldn't wait any longer; lining himself up as he used his big warm hands to spread your cheeks, slowly pressing his tip into your ass before gently thrusting into you.
Buried at the hilt as he stilled for a moment, leaning over you with his hands either side of your head; he wanted to give you a moment, allow you to adjust to how thick he was and the slight burn of his light pubic hair against your bare skin.
But you were impatient, bucking your hips and already trying to fuck yourself on his cock as you pleaded softly, begging for him to move. Legolas could never deny such a lovely request, groaning softly as he snapped his hips, biting down on the side of your neck.
"I missed you so much," he murmured against the sensitive skin, his voice sending vibrations through you. "I thought about you every day."
You groaned softly, trying to match his harsh pace as you begged quietly for him to hold your hands, trying not to grin when his fingers laced and entwined with yours. "I need you so bad, love... I can't... unf... can't sleep when you're not here..."
He smiled, slowing down a little so that he could kiss the side of your face, grinning when you turned your head and kissed him softly. "I couldn't sleep, either. I spent too long putting up with your snoring, silence is... eerie."
"It's been a long time," you whimpered, able to feel him hit the exact right spot in your ass to make you gawk and moan, shudder and writhe, beneath him. "Legolas..."
"I'm here, love," he murmured, peppering the side of your neck in small, soft kisses. "I'm here. I've got you."
Nobody loved you the way that Legolas did, if you were honest. He made you laugh, made you squirm and writhe, but he made you smile and he made you actually feel wanted; whenever you were with him, you never felt unsafe or unsure about anything.
He made you feel confident, encouraged you whenever he was around. You could never believe that you were so lucky as to be able to love someone like him, let alone have that love returned. You could still remember the sigh of relief from Aragorn and Gimli when you announced that you and Legolas were moving in together.
You adored him, almost as much as he adored you. But with his long light hair tickling your skin, and the harsh and quick pace of his cock pounding into your tight, warm asshole - you knew you weren't going to last long.
He was hitting all the right spots, and the soft praises and encouragements that left his mouth had you clawing at the bed, desperate and needy as a little bit of drool slipped from your mouth.
You couldn't help it, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you tilted it back slightly, fucking yourself on his cock as your thighs trembled, toes curling as you moaned his name loudly; Legolas wasn't far behind, pressing his face to your neck as he softly grunted out your name, rutting his cum into your asshole as he gave your hands a firm squeeze.
"I've got you," he whispered softly. "I've got you."
You nodded against him, rolling your hips as you tried to catch your breath. "I'm feeling so much warmer now."
Legolas laughed, shaking his head fondly as he kissed your cheek. "I'm glad, my love."
#mlem writes#legolas x y/n#legolas x you#legolas x reader#legolas imagine#legolas fanfiction#legolas fic#legolas fluff#legolas smut#legolas drabble#legolas#lotr x reader#lotr x you#lotr x y/n#lotr x yn#lotr fanfiction#lotr fanfic#lotr fic#lotr imagine#lotr#lord of the rings x reader#lord of the rings x you#lord of the rings x y/n#lord of the rings x yn#lord of the rings imagine#lord of the rings fanfiction#lord of the rings fanfic#lord of the rings fic#lord of the rings
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Porridge - Kíli Durin x Reader
Just a cute little winter themed drabble for our favorite little brother.
Warnings: mentions of broken bones, mentions of near-death, light crying, homesickness
Word Count: 0.6k
"Come in," the voice was muffled.
"How's my favorite—what in Aule's name," Kíli interrupted himself. Most likely because while he was expecting to find you on your bed, in your place was a very high pile of blankets, covering from the foot to the headboard.
"Shove it," the blanket pile groaned.
"What, are you hiding your shame?" Kíli chuckled, drawing closer and probing a corner of the bed before sitting down.
"No!" You exclaimed, finally throwing off the layers of blankets. "I—help me up, please," you muttered, and he obliged before you continued. "I have nothing to be ashamed of, that cliff was steep and I blame you for thinking it was a good idea to climb it—"
"When you said you adored goats, I assumed that meant you had some degree of their skill," Kíli smirked.
"—and I happen to be hiding from the cold because your mountain is bloody freezing," you finished with a dramatic pout.
"It's a mountain. In winter. Honestly, khebabmudtu, what were you expecting?" He teased, having found his way to the head of the bed and leaning his head against his hand, his elbow propped on the headboard.
He felt himself freeze when he noticed tears welling in your eyes.
"Hey," he said, voice softer. "What's wrong?"
"It's never this cold back home," you whimpered. "And no one here makes porridge the way Ma made it, and I can't make it myself because of my daft ankle, and I—I just..." you sighed, breaking off. "I miss home but I want to stay here, too."
Kíli frowned. He had seen you upset, sure, and he had seen you heartbroken—sure as Mahal when you thought he was dead—and he had more than definitely seen you angry. But he had never seen you distressed over something that even you would consider trivial.
"You mind?" he asked, already lifting the stack of the blanket corners to slide into the generous bed with you. You shook your head quickly.
"I'm not sure that it counts for much, but I understand," he said slowly. "I spent most of my life in Ered Luin, and I still feel a little homesick for it sometimes. I can't imagine what a big difference it is from the Southlands. But I'm glad you chose to stay here."
"God only knows why," you sniffled.
"Well, I was hoping for me," Kíli smiled, and you rolled your eyes. "But seriously, khebabmudtu, we all love having you here. Anything that can help make you stay, I'll do it."
You gave a grin-grimace. "Thanks, Kí," you said, and leaned into his side, much to his surprise. He was all too happy to wrap an arm around your shoulders to keep you there. "What does that word mean?"
He hesitated for a moment. "What word?"
"Khebabmudtu," you said, stumbling a bit over the consonants.
"Heart forge," he whispered, and when you looked up at him, confused, he knew he had to say it louder. "It means heart-forge. The forge where my heart is made."
"Hmm," you hummed shortly, snuggling into his ribs. "I bet you say that to all your lady friends."
He wanted to laugh. He couldn't believe you still didn't believe that he was the ugly brother. "No," he replied simply instead. "Just you."
Just you.
You liked the sound of that.
#lotr fanfic#lotr#the hobbit#lotr fandom#lotr headcanons#the hobbit headcanons#the hobbit x reader#kili x reader#kíli x reader#kili durin x reader#kíli durin x reader#kili x reader oneshot#kíli x reader oneshot#kíli x reader drabble#kili x reader drabble#kili fanfic#kili durin#fili and kili#everyone lives au#the hobbit everyone lives au
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If you do requests, I would love a Fili one! Specifically, his hobbit gf who has short hair tells him she’s going to grow it out so that he can finally put it in braids <33
A/N: this was such a cute request, thank you so much for sending it in (and your patience!)! Hope you like it!
Fíli x fem!hobbit (unnamed) OC
Requested: obviously
Warnings: just lots of teeth rotting fluff I guess?
Word count: 753 words
Always yours
“You’re staring again,” she said without taking her eyes off the page of her book. As handsome and charming as her companion was, the story she was reading was too intriguing and she really wanted to know what the heroine would do next.
But there came no response to her comment and eventually her curiosity got the best of her. She peeked over the edge of the paper, straight into the bright blue eyes of her intended.
“See? I knew I was right,” she teased with a smile.
Fíli chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest, making her smile even wider. There truly wasn’t a lovelier sound.
“Such beauty as yours is meant to be admired, ibrizinlêkhê, you cannot fault me for doing so.”
She twirled a lock of hair around her finger as she resumed her reading, a blush colouring her cheeks at the given praise. Even after months of courting she still wasn’t used to the numerous compliments Fíli showered her with.
“Your hair’s getting quite long,” Fíli commented as he let his fingers glide through her deep brown curls. “I suppose it’s almost time to cut it again.”
She didn’t miss the disappointment in his voice, even though she knew he’d tried to hide it. She usually let her curls grow until it reached her shoulders, or until it was at ‘proper Hobbit-length’ as she’d always say, before the scissors would appear. Even though Fíli knew hair wasn’t as important to Hobbits as it was to Dwarrows, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness every time his future wife took out the scissors.
But now it almost brushed her collarbones, the longest it had ever been and Fíli loved it. How the curls danced around her face as she was running around the kitchen, cooking yet another feast, or how they framed her perfectly round face as she was engrossed in one of her books, shielding her from prying eyes. His fingers itched to braid her auburn locks, to take three strands and weave them together, following an all-too-familiar pattern, sealing it with a bead containing his sigil and making her truly his in the eyes of Mahal. But he respected her too much, and the last thing he would want for her was to abandon her own culture.
“About that…” she began, pulling him out of his thoughts. She went to the heavy wooden chest of drawers, took something out of the top drawer and placed it in his hand with a shy smile. A pair of scissors.
Fíli’s eyes went wide at the suggestion. “You cannot ask me to… I can’t-”
He loved her with all his heart, she was his whole world without any doubt, and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do if she asked him to, but this request was really pushing his limits.
The Hobbit girl laughed, her giggles like tiny bells in the evening breeze, and she folded her small hands around his large one holding the scissors, closing it with an encouraging squeeze.
“I don’t want you to use them,” she reassured him, “I want you to keep them, since I have no need for them anymore.”
Fíli stared at her, his features twisted in confusion, before he realised what it meant. He dropped the scissors and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, the book she was reading toppling to the ground but neither of them noticed. As he let go of her, his hands moved from her waist to cup her cheeks, brushing a strand of hair out of her face with his thumb.
“I know how important this is to you, and your kin. You’ve done so many things to make me feel at home. So I decided I wanted to grow out my hair, long enough for you to braid it. And I think we’re there, don’t you?”
Fíli positively beamed with happiness, blinking a few times as if he couldn’t believe what had just occurred. He closed the already small distance between them with a small tug, and kissed her hard, a kiss full of passion and promises and want.
As they separated, both catching their breaths, he took something out of his pocket, and opened his hand, revealing a silver bead. “I’ve carried this with me ever since we started courting, but I never thought... Ibrizinlêkhê, would you do me the honour of letting me braid your hair?”
She smiled, her eyes a little teary at the sheer happiness and nodded.
“Always.”
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Legolas drabble / imagine | Legolas x reader
☆彡
After a long period away from each other, he engulfs you in his arms in the firmest, warmest of hugs, his face buried in the crook of your neck and arms clasped tightly around your waist, breathing in your scent as he falls into rhythm with your heartbeat once more.
"Meleth nin," he sighs into your skin with a relief as though the days without you has had him in the throes. "You’re finally home."
You laugh, surprised at his reaction yet secretly delighted to know your absence has had such an effect, but you know yourself to be no better, having clutched his memento every night just to be able to fall asleep. "I’m home, I’m home and I’ve missed you so, my home," you quietly confess.
Legolas’s hands travel along your arm and to your face, cradling your jaw as his fingertips brush along your cheek. He leans in just a breath’s away, nose bumping against yours. "My starlight, it’s been dark without you," he whispers in elven tongue, and it elicits a shy chuckle from you.
"You exaggerate," you say, despite yourself. Indeed, it had been challenging getting used to being alone again for so long, having grown used to Legolas’s constant presence by your side. Being by your lonesome felt particularly peculiar, as though unable to feel the bite of a snowstorm despite smothered in its chill. But arriving home to Legolas was like experiencing the first warm rays of sun after a long dark winter. Your senses thawed, you grasp him as tightly, unable to articulate your own feelings, but Legolas makes up for where you lack, his words carrying both his and your deepest sentiments.
"I feel whole again," his lips graze your forehead, your eyes, your nose and finally claims your lips.
Your heart sings and you follow his lead in a dance you both know well, slow and earnest, savouring the missed taste and presence of the other. Legolas holds you tighter to him, finding your hand to intertwine with his as his other slides against the back of your neck, gently coaxing your head back to deepen the kiss. He’s zealous in pursuing your touch, leaning into you when you cup his jaw, almost breaking the kiss just so he can rest his head fully in the heat of your palm.
A soft, contented sigh escapes him, and a fleeting thought crosses your mind; perhaps it isn’t so bad to go on long missions more often, if it meant coming home to something like this.
☆彡
a/n: im back with another!! Thank you for the love and wonderful remarks on the previous drabble <33 it is very encouraging to know that my writings are enjoyed ;;
this one was my first ever Legolas drabble that I’d left in my drafts for forever... It was originally pure word vomit and fluff but i polished it a bit and hopefully you guys enjoyed it! Thank you for reading, and if you like this, feel free to drop a reblog / follow (but be forewarned, I write like,, anything so.. expect the unexpected) but it is all very much appreciated .｡.:*☆ ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ
#diabetic tooth rotting plaque inducing fluff#it’s dramatic as hell but#i was feeling pure fluff and this is what happened!!!#sorry not sorry!!!#only sorry for typos.. pretend they don’t exist#legolas#legolas imagines#legolas x reader#legolas x you#lotr imagines#legolas drabbles#lotr#nomelwelloy
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