When You Overheard Them Talking About You As Their Type
Characters: Curufin, Argon, Egalmoth, Beleg
A/N: I just love the tough guy + soft reader troupe, and I was so pleased that I was able to include it for Curufin (especially him).
Synopsis: You overheard them talking about you as their type to a suitor who was pursuing them.
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⋆˚✿˖° Curufin
“No.”
“You didn’t even let me finish,” the elleth pouted, following him through the forge’s side entrance.
“Because I already know what you’re going to ask,” Curufin said shortly, tossing his gloves down onto the workbench with a heavy thump. “And no, I am not interested.”
“But we would suit,” she insisted. “You’re brilliant. I’m clever. Our union would be ideal—”
“You’re clever enough to say that, yet still daft enough to ignore me saying no. That makes you about as clever as a rock.”
You had just walked in through the rear entrance with a plate of salted caramel cookies when you caught the tail end of the argument. Curufin was never the type to waste his breath arguing. Instead, he dismissed, sneered, and cut people down with words. And yet here he was, back turned to you, apron still on, and looking handsome as ever, now that he was riled up and sweaty.
“I don’t understand,” she huffed. “If it’s not me, then who is it?”
“Not someone who cannot comprehend rejection, but one who respects choices and people,” he blankly stated, though, there was a small twitch of his lips as he mentally recalled an incident between you two. “I enjoy the company of someone who prefers hitting me with a wooden spoon for stealing raw cookie dough, as though I am not a prince of an esteemed house, and scolding me like I was not a grown man.”
You nearly snorted at the commentary, also remembering when you pulled him to stand in a corner, scolded him and made him wait their until you were finished baking so he wouldn’t disturb your ambience.
“I want someone who isn’t afraid to question and correct me, not because of who I am, but because they care. Someone who doesn’t fawn over me, but would rather fuss. Who says no to me, and not because they’re demanding, they have standards and wouldn’t settle for anything otherwise. Who steals my tools, for gardening and interior decorating, and then denies it with food as bribery. Who brings out a side to me I didn’t know existed, and if my brothers ever saw it, I’d never hear the end of it.”
He walked closer to the elleth who looked entirely stunned now, mouth half-open, not a single syllable escaping.
“I yearn for them, and they don’t want me. Which makes them the cleverest person I’ve ever met because I’m a pain in the ass and no one could put up with that.”
The elleth blinked, confused. “Who is this person?”
“You know of whom I speak of,” he confirmed. “You see me with them all the time.”
Fumbling for the right words to reply with, her eyes darted around the forge trying to recover from the reality of she not being the one he spoke of. “Don’t you think they’re not suited to be with a Prince of House Feanor. You still need someone who comes from a well-established household, and they don’t sound like they do.”
There was pregnant pause as Curufin too in the statement she made about you. She clearly knew nothing about you, for in his eyes, you were worth more than any of the established households that existed in Valinor. The sheer desperation and audacity of her words had him boiling underneath as his stare turned into a glare that melted steel—she shrunk under it.
Believing that you heard enough, you stepped into the room with a gentle knock to the door and called out to Curufin, pretending that you casually walked in and stumbled upon the exchange.
“Curufinwë—oh!” you gasped, feigning shock. “Sorry, I wasn’t aware I was intruding. I’ll come back later—”
“Not at all,” he called out, turning to face you with softened eyes. “Lady Atariel was just leaving. By all means, stay.”
The embarrassment of realising she had no say or victory, she lifted her head high and stormed out the forge with her rolled bellowing behind her like a raging storm, leaving you and Curufin to stew in the aftermath. At first, neither of you spoke, just staring at each other in silence with softened eyes and faint smiles.
However, it didn’t take long for Curufin to break the silence first. “How long were you standing outside to hear all of that?”
Giving him a sheepish grin, you let out an airy laugh. “Enough to realise you’ve been fantasising about someone stealing your tools and bribing you with food.”
“I fantasise about more than too, you know,” he muttered with a change of colour rising on his cheeks, or it could have been a trick of light.
“Like what exactly?” you teased.
Narrowing his eyes, he sauntered over until he was standing before you, the plate as the only barrier. “Like wanting you to accept my stubborn ass as yours. That way, you can steal all the tools you want.”
You tossed your head backwards and released a round of laughter. “Only if I get to continue smacking you with spoon for stealing food before it’s finished.”
“Deal. Once I have you around all the time.”
⋆˚✿˖° Argon
“I’m just saying,” the ellon laughed, a little too loudly, “some people are into shy types, or quiet ones, but you seem like you’d go for someone more…you know, spirited.”
There was a surprised pause from Argon, before he blinked at him. He hadn’t even asked for a conversation, much less a monologue on dating preferences over the hunting campfire, yet here they were. You were standing nearby, cleaning the kill you’d brought in earlier, but his voice carried enough that you couldn’t help but hear it.
“You look like you’d enjoy someone who could…keep you on your toes,” the ellon added, leaning in slightly.
This time, Argon blinked slower, clearly in annoyance that the choice of topic and the suggestion of what he believed suited the young prince.
“Do I?” he replied enough to sound thoughtful and yet still impossibly unimpressed.
“So, what’s your type?” the ellon tried again, pushing through the awkwardness with stubborn optimism. “I bet you go for the elegant ones. Or maybe someone real flirtatious?”
He let out a disbelieving chuckle, a sound that was half a breath and mostly dry amusement. “Flirtation is a poor replacement for ability.”
You paused mid-slice. Interesting.
The ellon cleared his throat. “So…not that, then. I guess you like someone who’s more subtle. Strong, quiet…”
“No.” Argon stated confidently. “I like someone who fights with me; not beside me—with me—verbally, physically, stubbornly, and irritatingly so.”
“Uh…?”
“They bite,” Argon continued, casually breaking a piece of bread, “figuratively and sometimes literally. Smarter than me, won’t let me get away with foolishness. Sometimes, they’ll look at me in my foolishness and say: ‘That’s nice. I’ll be over here doing something useful.’”
You raised a brow, hands stilled from washing the pieces of meat.
“They scowl when annoyed, blankly stare at flattery, yet they dress like it’s ball every day—and believe, you do not want to get in between them and fashion—” He dipped the bread in his stew. “—They bring in three times the hunt I do and don’t say a word about it unless I try to brag first.”
That comment got you to turn your head just slightly, and watch him from the corner of your eye, heart ticking faster.
“They’ve got arms strong enough to toss me into the river in their best wear, without messing themselves up, and the decency not to mention it when they don’t.”
The ellon went quiet.
Smiling faintly, he continues. “They’re standing over there, cleaning the catch they hunted all by themselves, and acting like they’re not listening.”
Caught red-handed, you angled your face to ground to hide the growing blush and widened eyes. On the other side, the ellon whom he was speaking to, blinked his smile right off his face. Waiting for a few moments to pass before slowly standing, you wiped your hands on the rag tied at your belt and placed your meat into the bowl, before sauntering over. Immediately, the ellon found an excuse to go check his gear, leaving just you and Argon.
“Didn’t know you saw all of that, pretty boy,” you muttered.
“I see everything you do,” he replied, leaning back and admiring the line of your shoulders. “I watch.”
“You’re secretly a creep, you know.”
Not bothering to hide or become shameful, he grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Absolutely. I’m besotted, and it’s terrible.”
“So was that all about me?” you asked, placing the bowl down and folding your arms across your chest with a humoured smile dancing on your lips.
“Of course it was. I don’t spend my evenings fantasising about that idiot.” He gestured vaguely in the direction the ellon had fled. “Though he did bring a good wine last week.”
You snorted. “So I’m your type, huh?”
“No, not exactly.” He stood up, towering, then reached out to brush a bit of blood from your cheek with his thumb. “You are it. The only type I’d ever bother with.”
You hated how warm that made you feel, and could not resist reacting with a gentle punch to his shoulder as your affectionate way of saying, ‘I love you, you romantic fool.’
⋆˚✿˖° Egalmoth
“…someone like you?” Egalmoth laughed, tossing his silvery braid over his shoulder as he leaned lazily against the stone balcony of the tower, trailing his eyes at the path below. “I am flattered, truly, but no, I do not think we suit.”
The elleth next to him—young, pretty, yet trying far too hard to seem relaxed—smiled with the grace of a flower. “You have never said what your type is, Lord Egalmoth. It’s a mystery even among the guards.”
He tilted his head with a coy smile. “A mystery? Nonsense. I simply haven’t met many who could handle me.”
That earned him a somewhat flustered giggle. “Handle you?”
“Yes. I like sharp wit and a sharper tongue. Someone who doesn’t falter when I speak my mind, but who’ll snap back. Someone who moves through life like they’re walking into battle—with purpose, with pride. The sort of person who makes even the court pause with just their presence. That’s the kind I want.”
Halfway through his list, the young elleth smile began to falter. By the time he added, “And I like someone who keeps me guessing. Someone who makes me work for their smiles. A hard to get, a challenge,” she’d already taken a step back.
On the other end of the room, you didn’t mean to eavesdrop—simply climb the stairs and deliver the captain’s report, however, instead you heard voices—his voice—and got curious. But now you were frozen just beyond the archway, with a hammering heart like you’d been caught.
Unaware of your presence, Egalmoth continued. “I want someone who doesn’t crumble when the court leans too close. Someone with bite, and their interestingly odd sense of charm.”
And then, to himself, he whispered, “Like them.”
The softness of his tone said everything. It was the exact cadence he used when speaking to you in council, accompanied by the teasing slant of his grin that was just a little different when you were the one talking back. That long stare he always gave you right after you rolled your eyes at him and walked away like you weren’t impressed.
It wasn’t hart to put two and two together and figure out who he was referring to. You.
“I think,” he added, lifting the carved silver goblet from the balustrade and sipping lazily, “that if they ever turned around and looked at me properly, It would be over for me. I would crumble.”
“Lord Egalmoth—”
“Mm?” He turned to the elleth. She was flushed, clearly embarrassed, but he didn’t seem to be focused.
“…You…you truly meant what you said?”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
Without waiting to hear more, you moved quickly and quietly, and vanished down the corridor before your footsteps could betray you. Your chest was tight, your face hot and your lips were resisting the urge to stretch across your face. It lingered all the way down the winding stairs, echoing louder than the clang of your boots: someone like them…like you…I would crumble.
And you knew he meant every word of it.
⋆˚✿˖° Beleg
“Me?” Beleg snorted, tightening the leather strap on his bracer as he sat half-sprawled against the root of a giant beech. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, and his bow lay beside him, polished and eager to be drawn. “I’ve been chased by the idea of marriage more times than I’ve been shot at.”
The young scout across from him chuckled nervously. “Is it so terrible?”
“Oh, it’s not terrible. Just…boring, usually.” He leaned back, throwing one arm behind his head. “Everyone always ask what I want. What I’m looking for. And I say the same thing—someone like them.”
“…Them?”
“Yes, them,” he clarified, with a cheeky grin, making the scout blush and look down, “Someone I know. They’re…peaceful, but also sharp. They feel like the melodies of spring and the warmth of summer combined. Each time I’m with them, time stops existing. They become the centre of all things peaceful and meaningful. I feel so alive.”
Not too far in the distance, you stood just behind a tree, holding a basket which contained parcels of dried meat and fruits, breads, jam, and soups meant for him after his patrol. Instead of jumping out and revealing your presence, you remained situated behind the tree and listened.
“I like someone who makes me want to be my best without having to demand or imply. I choose to because I want to be the best for them—they deserve it for all the things I make them put up with me,” he continued with a snicker, reaching for a berry and popping it into his mouth. “Someone who isn’t challenged by my importance and sees me as a person, and isn’t afraid to smack me with a wooden spoon for my carelessness with a scolding that rivals Arien’s heat.”
“That’s…specific,” the scout said with a hesitant smile.
“It is.” Beleg chewed, then looked up toward the canopy. “They’re the only person I know who can call me an idiot and make it sound like praise. Or turn me into an oversized puppy—as they love to call me—and have me needy for a hug. Just a hug. Or for their smile, or even a simple call of my name from their lips.”
There was a beat of silence, then the scout offered cautiously, “Do they know?”
Beleg smiled. “No. Or maybe they do, and they’re pretending not to. Either way, I’m not pushing it.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to deserve it…and because I respect them, and their peace. Sometimes I think I interrupt it more often than not,” he paused to laugh at a faint memory resurfacing before pushing it aside and continuing, “but until I have the clearance, I will continue to be my best for them no matter what because they also deserve a good person.”
The scout remained silent, listening intensely, while you stayed silent too, breath caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat.
“They aren’t the type to flirt—they once told me that they’re hopeless when trying to impress and sound like they’re bargaining for a good deal on butter. But I believe otherwise, because the chokehold they’ve got on me from simply smiling at me, makes me thinks they’re divine.”
He sighed, lying back fully now, arms folded behind his head. “I think they’re aware, but shy. That once-in-a-lifetime sort of person you meet and then ruin yourself trying not to fall in love with.”
Your heart was hammering so loudly, you were sure he’d hear it and discover your presence. But you couldn’t stay hidden any longer, you still had to give him the damn parcel, and now the task appeared impossible now that you knew. The subtle, dry comments and the way he always waited for your reaction, the glances, and the teasing. It hadn’t been one-sided. Just Beleg being a boy in love with someone who was the centre of his world.
A/N: I was not expecting to get all sentimental and long with this piece, even though it’s a favourite of mine because I get to write about knight Beleg. Yay!! Hope you all enjoy this piece as much as I did writing about it.
Warnings: female reader, royalty reader, knight Beleg, angst, mutual pinning, forbidden love, talks of marriage, mentions of elopement and children, talks of alternative futures and what ifs
Words: 3.1k
Synopsis: When marriage loomed around the corner and everything became suffocating, the sudden possibilities of another life with someone else who stood in the shadows arose. What would then become the future of you two, and would it be a reality?
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The sound of birds calling fluttered through the evening air. Their songs of love and yearning for a mate reached you from where you sat against the tree bark, still garbed in an attire too formal for a forest stroll. Yet, it matched the ambience of your emotion: sombre and hopelessness. The skies were painted vivid tints and tones of oranges, pinks and reds, small blotches of blue were still present amidst the colours of love—like a small beacon of light within the turmoil. It was hard not to given into the solemnity when most of the ambience mimicked your mood. There was barely any inspiration to lift you contemplative spell.
It further drove your thoughts into the one reason you escaped the palace walls—marriage.
Duty always came first in your line of responsibility, and that was the purpose behind the agreement to marry. He was good prince. Noble, fair, and respectful. Qualities impossible to come by when most princes were swallowed by vanity, egotism and pride. It was enough to move you towards accepting the request—for the sake of your people to sleep well at night and have their bellies filled with proper food.
Spiralling into another deep pit of thoughts, before you could plummet, the wind gently tugged at your gown. The embellishment shimmered under the rays of sunlight peaking behind the clouds, enough to attract a few magpies, and distract you. Reaching into your satchel for a few pumpkin seeds, you lightly scattered them to your left for the birds to eat. Soon enough, the melodic sounds had turned into shrieks, with the addition of a few snickers from you. However, it was enough to draw your attention back to the cliffside view of the settlement below, and at how calming it was to look at your people. Not an opportunity you often got the chance to experience, and when you did, it was never alone. You had the company of one who knew the people hearts and taught you how to read them.
You exhaled. This time, more wearisome than the last.
Tomorrow changes everything. But is it necessary? Must I—
“Your Highness.”
Your heart lurched at the sound of his voice, prompting you to swivel around and come face to face with the owner.
Beleg. A knight of the Royal Guards. Your knight.
Your heart clenched at the acknowledgement and at the heartbreak.
Sitting upright and forcing your lips to stretch into a smile, he further stepped out from the shade of the forest and took three strides to stand beside you—still at arm’s length. The sounds of his armour clunking, filled the opening. Hand on the pummel, the other at his side, a loose braid fell against his temple while his hair remained neatly braided down his back, and his silver and green armour. Silvery robes bellowing behind him, adding a regal touch to a man who served the nobles. And lastly, his face—still pleasant to look at, even when a frown marred it.
“Always one to disappear on the eve of ceremonies,” he announced with a small tug of his lips to break the ice.
Exhaling with raspberry, you rolled your eyes and lightly shook your head, returning your eyes to the village below. The reminder was like stabbing you with a rusty knife. You said nothing, not trusting your voice now that he was here. His presence only brought tightness to your throat as the looming sense of betrayal threatened to fill your heart and mind.
Taking your silence and lack of motion to address his comment, remained standing—at ease—while taking in the pinching of your brows and upturn of your lips. It was out of his line of duty to question or pry, and as a man of honour of duty, he chose to follow his vows and remain silent at your side. For as long at it took, even when the sky grew darker and the star twinkled overhead, he said nothing. Even while he quietly shuffled around the opening, assembling a small fire.
It didn’t matter how many twigs crackled, the silence that filled the void was loud, blaring in your ears like an announcer at the stands during the tourneys. And with Beleg here, quiet like his oath demanded him to be, your nerves picked at you. You didn’t know how long you could maintain your composure, or was your expression not enough to warrant concern from the one person you had hope it would trouble?
Clearing your throat, you worked up the courage to speak up. “Were you not to return with me?” you managed with a small, hoarse voice.
Lifting his head, his eyes peeling away from the swirls of red and orange, to face you, his expression was…serene. As though it was a scenario he was trained to face within his line of duty. “I thought it best to grant you a moment of peace.”
“Ah,” you breathed, not knowing whether to cry at the acknowledgement or laugh at the lack of concern.
Unsure of whether to genuinely cry, you bit your lower lip and looked at the fire. Inhaling, you opened your mouth to follow with another question but found yourself hesitating. The cliff winds tugged gently at your hair, carrying the smell of the fields below—fresh dew and earth and faint smoke drifting from distance villages. For a long while you let it be. At last, the though that had been gnawing at your chest broke free yet refusing to stay unspoken.
“Beleg,” you began softly, the sound of his name almost swept away by the breeze. He shifted slightly enough to show you he was listening. You toyed with the fabric of your gown in your lap, steadying your voice before you dared to continue. “What…what would your life be, if you were not a knight?”
He stilled. A heavy pause followed, as though he had been turned to stone. For a heartbeat you assumed he might pretend not to have heard, that he would cloak himself in more silence the way he had done so many times when feelings pressed too near. His jaw tightened, his throat worked once, and still no words came.
“I mean it,” you whispered confidently, turning your face towards him, though his eyes now avoided yours. “If you had never been bound to oaths or duty, if the crown had no claim on you…what then? What would you have chosen for yourself?”
You saw the hesitation in his body—the stiffness of his posture and flaring of his nostrils. “I…have never dreamed of such a dream,” he answered. “To do so…would be to invite folly.”
“But for me,” you urged softer. “Just once. For now… For me.”
At that, his head turned, and for a fleeting moment his eyes met yours. The flakes of gold within his forest green orbs were undeniably tender, as though all the things he had never spoke balanced on the cusps of that look. Then, as softly as he met your eyes, he looked away, towards the town below.
“…I suppose…I would find some patch of land. A cottage by the trees. Nothing grand, nothing gilded. Enough space for quiet, enough roof to keep the rain off. That would be enough.”
The vision was so simple that it made your chest ache with something bittersweet. It painted more warmth than all the splendour of the palace halls and awaited marriage. A smile ghosted your lips, though it trembled at the edges.
“And me?” you continued in a hush-hush tone, almost afraid to hear his opinion. “If we were not bound as knight and princess—if we were strangers who met by chance—would you still have sought me out?”
Immediately, he closed his eyes to shut out the vision that was blossoming out of that question. It cut him too deeply to imagine an alternative life. But when he finally responded, each word was carved out of the silence with care.
“…From the first moment we met, I would have sought you out. Always.”
You didn’t know whether to laugh or weep at the certainty in his voice. Instead, you turned you face back towards to the fire, trying to soften the tremor in your chest by spinning the threat further, drawing the dream out until it felt almost real.
“And in that cottage of yours,” you whispered slowly, “what would our days look like?”
He shifted as though the very thought unsettled his armour. “I would hunt and trade the furs. Perhaps mend bows and carve weapons from the bones or teach the village boys to string them true. That is work I know.”
“And I?” you pressed, half-teasing, half-yearning. “What task would I have, in your imagined life?”
Slowly, he released a breath that might have been a laugh, though it carried more ache than mirth. “You would tend your garden. Scatter flowers about the hearth. Keep bees, chickens and ducks, perhaps. And also scold me whenever I trampled mud through the door after a long day.”
That earned a small bubble of laughter from your throat, undoing the chokehold. “Scold you? Perhaps, but I would also spoil you instead—stews and roasts rich enough to make you soft, and bread warm from the oven until you grew lazy with it.”
For the first time that evening, his mouth curved into a true smile, and the shadows dancing on his face, vanished. “Then I would grow lazy, gladly.”
His smile lingered momentarily before fading, but its memory warmed you. The fantasy felt alive now, almost tangible, and you carried it further before silence could settle again.
“And children?” you ponder, much softer with inquisitive eyes and a pounding heart. “Would we have children, in this life of ours?”
He froze as if a bolt of lightning ran through him. For a moment, he said nothing, and you feared you had pressed too far. But then his shoulders eased and his voice, though strained, found its way to you.
“…If you wished it, yes. I would want to see you cradle them.”
Slowly, you felt the tears return, prickling the corners of your eyes and gathering at the entrance of your nostrils. “How many do you think?”
He gave a quiet, strangled laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as though the very idea left his unmoored. “…One would be enough.”
“Two,” you insisted, eyes brightening with the spark of life. “A boy and a girl. The boy with your eyes, the girl with my temper.”
“God save us,” he groaned softly, shaking his head as a reluctant smile touched him again.
Tranquillity had settled against between you both, broken only by the distant rustle of the forest and the wind that sighed through the grasses below the cliff. You wrapped your arms around your knees, leaning into the rough bark behind you, eye half-closed and ready to capture this moment of stillness forever. Seeing you shivering urged him to rise from his seat, unfastened his cloak and drape it over your figure, bundling you like a babe.
Offering a smile, you patted the ground next to you for him to sit instead of the valley between you two. And begrudgingly, he caved in with a defeated smile and sat himself beside you, shoulder bumping against yours, and fingers twitching to hold you.
Once he settled down, your thoughts slipped, unbidden, into daydreams—yet not of a crown or palace. “We could wander too, you know,” you muttered softly, almost as if afraid the words might drift away with the wind. “Go where no one knows us. No guards, no courtiers, no rules. Just…us. Sleeping beneath the stars, waking with the sun. And eventually building your dream.”
The faint clink of his armour accompanying the movement echoed with the turn of his head. There was an unreadable expression, somewhere between curiosity and absurdity. “You would leave your silks for the road? To live a life not suited to a royal?”
You laughed, turning your head in his direction, yet not meeting his eyes. “Correction. I would leave to live a life with you, gladly. You think me too delicate to trade satin for rough blankets and dusty roads?”
The sound of frogs croaking and crickets chirping filled the stillness created. A few twigs crackled and owls hooting joined the choir the longer you waited for a response, glancing at his twitching fingers and fidgeting boots. “Then I’d take you north, where the pines sing louder than the birds. You would head the snow cracking beneath your boots, taste the cold on your lips. Or east, to the sea. You’ve never seen it, have you?”
The admission slipped from you with a childlike tilt of your chin. “No, not at all.”
“Then you would.” His voice grew confident as if imagining built courage in him. “I would take you to the cliffs where the waves strike so hard they turn the air to mist. You’d stand on the rocks and stretch your hands wide, and gulls would wheel above your head like a crown.”
You grinned at him—wistful, aching—and leaned into him, resting your head upon his shoulder, feeling him grow stiff. “And you’d keep me safe?”
Easing the tension in his body at the recognition of duty, he tilted his head to rest upon yours. “Always.”
His words lingered in the air, more binding than an oath spoken before kings, more intimate than a caress. You swallowed hard, realising the ache in your chest was not just sorrow—it was longing, sharp and tender, for a life painted in dreams you could never live.
“What if we left right now?” you spewed out, without a second thought.
Beleg’s head sharply jerked away from yours, his brows knitting together as he attempted to fathom your suggestion.
“What if we simply went? Right now, tonight. No more vows, no more duties—just you, me and the life you envisioned?”
“Do not tempt me so,” he choked out, voice so raspy, one would swear he was being tormented. His body felt stiff like a bowstring under your touch. The hard lines of disciple were still there—the knight’s restraint, the soldier’s control—but beneath them lay something rawer, his eyes darkening with unspoken ache.
“I am not tempting,” you reassured. “I am asking.”
Drawing in a deep breath, he shut his eyes for a moment as though the sight of you was too much to bear. His fingers flexed against his knees, curling into fists before he forced then still. “If I were only a man,” he whispered hoarsely, “I would. Without hesitation, without thought. I would carry you from these walls and never look back.” His voice finally cracked, and when he opened his eyes again, they shone in the swirls of the flames with a torment you had never seen. “Alas, I am not a man. I am your knight. I am sworn.”
The words sank heavy into you, yet you pushed anyway, your heart was desperate for the truth you already knew. “And you love me too much to let me throw away my crown.”
“…To not let you throw away comfort and a safe life, aye.”
The urge to cry welled up, but you swallowed the lump building in your throat, clinging instead to the sight of him—his broad shoulders stiff with tension, his jaw clenched against all he wanted to say and could not. For a fleeting moment you imagined yourself rising, taking his hand, and fleeing into the shadows of the forest. But you stayed rooted, because you knew he would never allow it—not for his sake, but for yours.
And that perhaps, hurt most of all.
“Beleg,” you murmured with what little confidence you gathered once more, still not enough to hide the tremble, “after tomorrow…what becomes of us?”
The question hung there, suspended between you like a blade poised above both your hearts. You heard the faint hitch in his breath, saw the way his jaw tightened before he closed his eyes for the briefest instant. “I remain,” he uttered calmly, too calmly. “At your side as I always have.”
Words that meant to reassure, cut instead. A sad laugh slipped from you, sharp and broken, because you heard all the things he would not say—I remain, though not as yours. I remain, though my heart will bleed for it. You turned your face away, unable to look at him as tears already burned at the corner of your eyes.
“Even…” you sighed, feeling the weight of your words cracking your voice, “even if it tears you apart?”
For a heartbeat, he did not answer, and you feared that your question might have crushed him into silence. Then, in the dark, his hand shifted ever so slightly that you could the feel the warmth radiating from it. “Better me than you.”
You let out another sound that was half a sob and half a laugh. “Fool of a knight,” you whispered, though the words lacked the bite. They trembled with affection, heavy with grief. “Tell me truthfully…do you think we would have been happy in that life we spoke of?”
For once he did not hesitate, nor did he allow the stillness to swallow his honesty. His answer was not drawn out or uncertain. He was positive.
“I do not think,” he answered, “I know.”
Something in you fractured at those words. You bit down hard against the rising tide in your chest, but tears slipped past regardless, catching the moonlight as they fell. Your let out a trembling breath, and when you blinked, one tear trickled down your cheek. Instinctively, his hand lifted slowly, uncertainly, as if he crossed a boundary he had sworn never to face with a tenderness so gentle, it undid you entirely.
Neither of you spoke after that. The silence that followed was loud enough with all the words you had never said, with all the possibilities that would never come to pass. Above you, the stars shone brightly with a mock to the eternal dream you had dared to weave. At last, he broke the tranquillity. “Where our future lies,” he murmured with a gaze that never left yours, “I cannot say. But wherever it is, I will be there.”
And though tomorrow loomed with the vows that would sever you from this fragile dream, you held onto his words, clutching them like a promise, like a secret, like a lifeline.
A/N: I’ve been unnecessarily having baby fever and Beleg appears to be the perfect person to bear the brunt of my obsession.
Warnings: female reader, fluff, fluff and more fluffiness, Beleg being a dad to twins
Words: 2k
Synopsis: Returning home after a two-week shift at the borders of Doriath, Beleg discovers that he’s officially a father of two.
Soundless footsteps, swift and sure, as he made his way through the familiar woods, the dense canopy overhead dappling his path with patches of light. He had been gone for two long weeks, guarding the borders of the hidden realm, and now he was finally home. The last stretch of his journey felt endless, his heart pounding with anticipation. Eagerly rushing up the porch, he froze before his hand could meet the door knob to greet the beautiful sight of you.
There, frozen, he heard the whispers of your melodic voice waffling through the air like the gentle breeze of the warm spring keeping the winter coldness at bay. It felt like aeons since last he heard your voice, and here he was, after two weeks of being away, floating through the air on the whispers of your voice. Unable to wait another minute he twisted the door knob and burst through the front door.
Nowhere insight you were, yet he remained hopeful of the beautiful sight he would be greeted upon his return. Noting that the house appeared asleep, he smiled to himself, remembering how much you struggled to keep it alive when he wasn’t around. The house was warm, filled with the soft glow of candlelight. The scent of fresh pine and herbs lingered in the air, mingling with a sweeter, more delicate aroma that was new to him. He closed the door behind him with a soft click, removing his boots and his gears, he placed them at the front door and ushered to wash his hands before making his way through the house to your bedroom.
However, it was the sight of you sitting in the centre of the room, cradling your two newborns that made him freeze in his track. You were seated on a low stool with your back to him while humming a gentle melody that seemed to resonate with the very walls. The cradle beside you rocked gently, two tiny bundles nestled inside.
For a moment, Beleg was rooted in place, overwhelmed by the sight. The reality of fatherhood had been a distant thought, overshadowed by his duties at the border. But now, seeing his wife, your children—his children—he felt an intense wave of emotion crash over him. His heart swelled with love, gratitude, and a fierce protectiveness that brought tears to his eyes.
Soft coos and grunts came from the cradle in unison which made his heart swell. Unable to hold back any longer, he crossed the room in swift strides and wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close. A soft gasp was emitted, before melting into his embrace, your head leaning back against his chest. Beleg immediately buried his face into your hair, inhaling your familiar scent, mixed with the newness of your children.
“Meleth-nîn,” he called out and felt you stirring in his arms to turn around and meet his gaze. There, he was met with the most beautiful smile he had ever received from you. Your eyes were filled with weariness, strands of hair falling into your waxed face and out of your bun, your clothes loose-fitted and hanging off your figure, and yet, you could not have looked any more beautiful than you did in that moment. “I…I’m home. I…”
He pressed a kiss to your temple, his tears finally spilling over. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I wanted to be with you…with them.”
Your smile softened as you cupped his face to wipe away his tears. “It’s alright. You’re here now, and that’s what matters, plus, they decided to arrive earlier than we anticipated.”
At your words, his shoulders relaxed and his lower lips quivered slightly as he broke into a teary-eyed smile. “We have two babies,” he cried while adding soft laughter of disbelief, and he rocked you from left to right, looking at you through his teary green eyes. “We made two babies! Not one, but two!”
Nodding along with him as you cupped his face, you leaned in to press a tender kiss to his nose while wiping his tears. “We did.”
“You’re amazing, you know that right?” he whispered as he craned his neck upwards to swiftly kiss you. “You’re so perfect and wonderful, and I’m proud to have you in my life,” he praised before switching to a voice full of concern. “How are you? It must have been difficult…I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”
Shaking your head with a reassuring smile through the weariness, you replied, “It was difficult, but it’s over now. And I’m all right, truly. I’ve had help from the healers and our friends. They’ve been wonderful.”
Beleg nodded, relieved but still feeling a pang of guilt. He reached for your hand and held it tightly. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. “For bringing them into this world, for being so strong…for everything.”
“It was worth it.”
His gaze drifted to the cradle, where the tiny forms of his son and daughter lay. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of them—so small, so perfect. Their faces were soft, round, and serene, with tiny fists curled up against their cheeks. His son’s hair was a miniature version of yours, while his daughter’s was a shade similar to his silvery strands, like the softest moonlight. He could see their chests rising and falling with each breath, their delicate eyelashes fluttering as they dreamed.
His heart swelled even more if that were possible, and he released you gently so he could kneel beside the cradle. His fingers trembled as he reached out to touch his son’s cheek, the skin impossibly soft under his calloused hand. The baby stirred slightly at the touch but didn’t wake, only nestling closer to his sister.
Beleg’s breath caught in his throat again, the emotions swirling within him too vast to contain. He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as he took in every detail of his children’s faces. “I’ve seen many wonders in my time,” he murmured, “but nothing compares to this. To them.”
“May I hold them?” he asked, his voice almost reverent, his heart aching with love for the tiny beings who had suddenly become the centre of his world.
Wordlessly, you smiled and carefully lifted your daughter from the cradle and placing her in his arms.
Beleg’s breath hitched instantly as he cradled his daughter against his chest. She was so small, so fragile, and yet she fit perfectly in his arms, as if she had always belonged there. Her tiny face scrunched up briefly before she settled back into sleep, her little hand curling instinctively around his finger.
“Hello, my little one,” Beleg whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “I’m your father.”
The words felt strange and wondrous on his tongue, and he couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down his cheek. He gently rocked her, his heart overflowing with love. “I’ll always protect you,” he vowed quietly. “You and your brother. I’ll never let anything harm you.”
You watched him with a smile, your own eyes glistening with tears of pure joy. “She looks so much like you,” she said softly. “The same nose, the same serious little expression.”
Beleg chuckled through his tears, his heart light with joy. “I see you in her too. And our son…he has your eyes.”
His wife nodded, her gaze drifting to the cradle where their son still slept peacefully. “He does. He’s already so strong, just like his father.”
Beleg’s heart swelled with pride, and he shifted his daughter carefully in his arms so he could lean over and place a tender kiss on his son’s forehead. The baby stirred at the touch, his tiny lips forming a soft ‘o’ as he blinked open his eyes for the first time since Beleg had arrived. For a moment, father and son simply looked at each other, and Beleg felt an indescribable connection take root in his soul. His baby’s eyes, so bright and full of life, seemed to pierce through to the core of him, filling him with a love so fierce it was almost overwhelming.
“Hello, my little warrior,” Beleg whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’m here now. I’ll always be here.”
The baby let out a tiny, contented sigh, and Beleg felt his heart melt completely. He looked up at you, his tears flowing freely now. “I never knew I could feel this much,” he said, voice breaking. “I never knew…”
“I know. It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? But it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world,” you whispered, feeling a wave of sleepiness washing over you sluggishly.
Beleg nodded, his heart so full it felt as though it might burst. He carefully handed his daughter back to his wife so he could pick up his son, cradling him just as gently. The baby nestled against his chest, warm and soft, and Beleg closed his eyes for a moment, simply revelling in the feeling of holding his child for the first time.
The room was quiet, filled only with the sound of their breathing and the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. Beleg felt a profound sense of peace settle over him, a sense of completeness he had never known before. This was his family, his home, and he knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, he would face them with courage and strength, for them.
He looked down at his son, who was already drifting back to sleep, and then at you who was gently rocking your daughter in her arms. “You’re weary, my love,” he said quietly, his voice filled with all the depth of his emotions. “Get some rest. I’m here now, I’ll look after you all.”
Before you could formulate a response, a yawn ripped past your lips, proving his words to be true. Offering him a sweet, tiring smile, you shuffled over to place your little girl into her cot and kissed your husband his lips, the kiss lingering for an extra moment or two before you pulled away and retreated to bed. All that was left was Beleg and his two new bundle of joys.
As he watched you drag your feet to your bed and topple face-first onto the mattress, not bothering to adjust your position to one more comfortable, he exhaled. This was the next chapter in his life to complete, one that would be forever and determine his future.
And as he held his son close, feeling the steady rhythm of his tiny heartbeat against his chest, and looking at his sleeping daughter, Beleg knew that he would do anything to keep them safe. The weight of his responsibilities as a warrior and protector had always been heavy, but now, with his family in his arms, that weight was balanced by a profound sense of purpose and joy. He would fight, not just for the safety of Doriath, but for the happiness of you and your children.
As the fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow, Beleg let out a contented sigh. With you off to wonderland, his children safe in his arms, and the soft hum of their breathing filling the room, Beleg allowed himself to close his eyes, finally at peace. His home, his family, his heart—everything he had ever longed for was here in this quiet moment. A moment he wished he could freeze for eternity.
He looked down at his son, who was now fully asleep, his tiny face peaceful and content. Beleg leaned down and kissed his forehead, then did the same for his daughter, his heart swelling with love for them both. “Rest well, my little ones,” he murmured. “Your father is here.”
Warnings: fem!reader, dom–sub dynamics, dom!Beleg, sub!reader, roleplaying, hunter and prey themes, public sex (in the forest), rough sex, manhandling, fingering, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, rough sex, use of pet names (reader being called little deer)
Words: 5.7k
Synopsis: Convincing Beleg to loosen up and enjoy a game of hunter and prey, you underestimate the pleasure he would gain from harmless fun, unaware of his primal urges to claim.
“Are you sure about this idea, meleth–nîn?” came the voice unsure voice of Beleg. He stood against a tree and dressed in this simple hunting attire without the extra weapons and gadgets. The shades of brown and green lend him the perfect camouflage to mask the background of the forest. A wonderful appearance capable of making him the perfect predator stalking his prey, no wonder you were persistently behind him to join in on your idea. However, the slight whimsical expression he directed towards you said otherwise.
It was still daylight, the noon sun high in the sky and only shaded by the forest’s canopy which protected you both from its brilliance. The rich, lush greenery of the forest sprawled out for miles in the forms of thickets and moss–covered tree trunks and vines. The forest of Doriath was ancient, and to Beleg, engaging in intimate acts for all creatures and crawling lifeforms to witness felt eerie. However, he was turned on by the idea of putting up a chase in order to have you all to himself; he was in agreement with it.
“So, let me understand this properly,” he began, “you wish for me to hunt you with the same instincts I use for animals and when I capture you, have my way right here in the middle of the forest?”
“Yes,” you confirmed confidently with an eager nod of your head.
Twisting his mouth and giving small bites to his gum, he still found the idea sceptical and required lots of convincing. With his brows pinched, he tightened his arms across his chest, unconsciously flexing his muscles which caught your attention. Images of being pinned against a tree or to the floor by those arms flashed across your mind. “But the cabin’s right there; not too far away where we can have the same levels of fun!” he cried out.
“It won’t be the same Beleg,” you whined. “Please.”
To give into your wish was easy, and Beleg tried his damn hardest to not falter, however, it was impossible when you pouted and flashed those pleading eyes at him. His greatest weakness. He exclaimed exasperatedly and rolled his head loosely with a childish pout. “You genuinely want this?”
Standing opposite him at a greater distance for when the chase was on, you nodded eagerly and tugged at the loose dress you wore for easier disposal once he caught you. Exhaling at the exhilarating thoughts of engaging in such animalistic acts turned you on even more and encouraged you to rub your thighs to ease the growing ache. As you did so, your arousal stained the inner of your thighs but also caught the attention of Beleg. His eyes darted immediately to where you shifted on your feet, squeezing and rubbing your thighs together. For a moment, he could have sworn he picked up a trace of your arousal lingering in the air.
With his tongue in cheek, attempting to not pounce on you this very instant, he forced his eyes to wander elsewhere while his breathing became erratic, and his leggings tightened. You were tempting him to go against the discomfort he held when it came to intimacy in the open in the forest. Had you suggested returning to your shared cabin which dwelt reasonably nearby, he would have pounced immediately without protest, but he was considering a change of heart at his eeriness.
Sighing and not believing he was about to follow along—there was enthusiasm in the depths of his stomach and being rough with you—he closed his eyes and spun around. “I’m giving you a head start of three minutes, then I’ll count to twenty before the hunt begins. I’d make good use of every inch of the forest should you not wish for this to be over soon,” he explained with cockiness in his voice, clearly aware of the lack of challenge this was about to be.
You were shocked by the abruptness of his command when he turned around and began barking instructions. There wasn’t a moment for any questions to be asked as his voice rang out again. “Two minutes.”
Realising the seriousness of his voice and the sudden change in the atmosphere from friendly to hungry, your eyes widened before spinning on your heels and taking off. The wind against your skin felt cold as you dashed through the forest, careful to avoid tripping over mossy vines and rocks; an accident was the last thing you needed to end your chase. Coming to a clearing, one you were familiar with, you were confused for a moment on which direction to head knowing that two minutes had already passed, and he was counting down.
Taking a left and heading along the border of Doriath, you came to a stream, the perfect location to lose your scent and footsteps, whichever he chose to track. Stepping into the stream and wading through the water, you moved upstream, sometimes stepping on the rocks to avoid the splashing sound of the water alerting him should be he nearby. When you came to the pool where the stream began, you hopped off onto the patch of grass and took off again.
Your heart was pounding from racing through the forest, unsure of whether he was already behind you or genuinely unable to track you. However, knowing Beleg, he was probably already on your tail and giving you the sense of satisfaction that you were able to outrun him. It wasn’t long before you felt your legs growing tired from all the consistent running without a break and stopped beside a hedge of bush. Checking for any briars or other creepy crawlers, you slithered into the hedge, made yourself comfortable on the dirt ground and waited.
Time passed slowly, dragging on for eternity before some action took place, though it wasn’t what you wished for. A few deer passed through the area, mulching on berries and squirrels carrying their nuts whilst chasing each other. You only hoped that hours wouldn’t pass before you were caught.
Sitting for a few more minutes, you sensed another presence, one that wasn’t a deer or any other animal. Camouflaged in his green and brown hunting attire, Beleg past a few feet from where you hid in the shrub of bushes. You observed the way his ears and nose twitched, attempting to pick up any signs of your presence in the area. When he found no signs, he continued ahead and out of sight.
A grin immediately spread across your face at the recognition that he hadn’t spotted not sensed you in the bushes nearby. Perhaps it was the water which washed your pheromones away and the invitation of the deer in the area that confused his ability to locate your fragrance. Nevertheless, it gave you the relief to know that he was nearby and the advantage necessary to prolong the hunt in hopes of his appetite growing ravenous.
Giving yourself a minute or two after he disappeared from sight, you then crawled out of the bushes with little to no sounds and took a stance to dust off the dirt. Craning your neck from where you stood in an attempt to spot him, you grinned once there was no sight or feel of him before taking a step in the direction you both came from.
“Just where do you think you’re running off to, little deer?” His voice suddenly manifested from behind, the same way his hands did to snake around your waist and tug you against his chest. His warm breath tickled the nape of your neck before crawling down your spine.
Panic seeped into your veins the moment you realised you were officially caught with nowhere to run. There was no possibility of fighting your way out of his grip now that you were fastened to his chest. The rapid rise and fall of your chest told you for the erratic beating of your heart drumming away. “H–How did you find me?” you managed to squeeze out.
“Find you?” he audaciously muttered as a hand came up to twirl a lock of your hair between his thumb and forefinger. He swayed you both from side to side, keeping you secured to his body without an ounce of freedom—deer were known for viciously kicking and fighting when caught, refusing to hand submission over to their captor. “I never found you, little one. I knew exactly where you were. But I must admit, you gave me the slip at the stream, smart.”
His voice had changed in a fraction of a second, dropping an octave and stripping you bare of your clothes. A river of arousal flowed from between your legs and joined the stains from earlier. Beleg sensed it; the shift of excitement which turned into lust. He must admit, the entire game was thrilling now that he was in the headspace and understood the anticipation it left behind with every action. Wanting to make the most of this moment, he dropped the lock of hair and ignored the tenseness at the gesture to slip his hand under your dress. The minute his fingers came in contact with your most intimate region, he grinned into your skin.
“Naughty, naughty, naughty,” he chastised. “A deer running around the forest without protection. Don’t you know what happens to deer when they aren’t protected?”
You shook your head, feeling your pulse beating in the depths of your throat and causing your words to remain stuck. With ease, his fingers inched higher until he cupped your cunt and parted it with his fingers for his middle to slip past your fold and sink into your heat. You trembled in his hold at the contrast of his cool finger compared to the heat you radiated.
Pushing his head closer to meet the tip of your ear, he whispered against it, knowing how sensitive you were. “They get devoured.”
With fervour, his finger dug deeper and curled against your sweet spot immediately to get you dripping all over his wrist. The lewd sounds of his finger pumping in and out echoed in the surroundings you two were still standing in. The sounds of the birds chirping, and frogs croaking accompanied the melody of your cunt sounding wet the faster he pumped his fingers. It wasn’t long before his wrist was drenched in your arousal as small squirts of your arousal spilt out.
Bowing into his body as his ministrations were incessant, your lips were parted and releasing strings of moans and whimpers of his name the more he pressed against your sweet spot. The relentlessness he displayed showed how easy was for him to fall into the headspace and find joy in the act. Beleg’s dominance was rare since there was never any need for him to display such power. There was a mutual understanding between you both to remain neutral when it came to displaying your power during intimate acts, so it was rare he was asked to show his dormant side. When he did, you could tell he enjoyed every second.
“Ngh, Beleg,” you whined as his finger continued to build its pace and lead to more fluids squirting out and staining your dress.
All the while, he held you firmly against his chest and continued to rock and grind his erection into your back, edging himself until he couldn’t take it any longer. For now, you were his main focus and dish, and you required all his attention in order to meet your expectations.
Panting louder as the pressure in your abdomen increased, you trembled uncontrollably, trashing and fighting against the steel grip. His touch always left you confused between wanting and not wanting it.
“Are you close, little deer? I can feel you,” he taunted. “Are you going to let me taste you?”
Those words did things to your insides, you were no longer able to withhold the pressure that rose to an insurmountable volume before cumming on his hand buried under your dress. Violent shivers consumed your body at his refusal to let up and push through your orgasm with continual thrusting of his finger targeting your bundle of nerves. It only caused for more juices to squirt everywhere while your body slowly went limp in his arms—the proper procedure for tiring out his catch.
Though he was merciful to all living creatures, he retracted his finger from your cunt and gave a few pats to your clit, laughing under his breath as you jolted. Still keeping you pressed against him, he removed his hand from under your dress and reached for the hem of your dress to tug it off your body. With the lethargy displayed by you before the game progressed, he struggled to remove your garment without producing any tears. Your legs were jelly and barely able to move to provide any assistance as he disrobed you, nonetheless, he managed to succeed in bringing you to nudity.
Dress discarded on the forest floor and you leaning against the tree trunk, Beleg’s hand held you up by your hips as he ascended to his knees. “Part your legs for me, love. A hunter must have a taste of his catch,” he elaborated while rubbing soothing circles into your hipbones. He looked up at you with pleading emerald eyes until your legs lethargically parted and granted him access to your heat.
Those eyes glittered and widened at the sight of your cunt and a sinister grin spread across his face. Lifting his forefinger to your puffy folds, he pressed it against your clit and gave a harsh flick to watch as you jolt again. The entire scene unfolding before his eyes was splendid.
“You’re so fragile, I could eat you up right now,” (he leaned in closer to plant a kiss on your thigh and smile as you shivered), “but I must savour my catch first—a good one I must admit.”
Wearly smiling down at him, your nails clung to the tree bark as best as you could, knowing he was about to display his fervour. Your chest was erratically heaving up and down with your heart beating in your throat and core. All butterflies were gathered in your lower abdomen at the sensation of his hungry eyes feasting upon your swollen cunt. In addition to his staring, the sight of him licking his lips and inching closer with soundless muttering increased the ache.
“Beleg, please don’t tease me,” you implored, eyes tearing up at the teasing he bequeathed with innocent eyes. His finger flicked at your clit and drew circles with your bundle of nerves as though he had all the time in the world.
Snickering at your protests, he arched a brow and bit the inside of your thigh, moving higher with each nibble he delivered. “Don’t you know teasing a catch is the best way to prepare it before eating.” Continuing his biting, his tongue would sometimes slip out to soothe the area whenever he bit down too hard before continuing his ministrations until he reached at the junction where your thigh ended, and the scent of your arousal was most pronounced. It tickled his senses and drove him wild with want and lust, partially forgetting that he needed to build the tension until you broke.
Diving between your legs, his head nestled easily with the comfort of knowing that his hunger was about to be sedated. His tongue lapped at your cunt like a dog in heat, drinking everything you spilt into his mouth as your arousal flowed like a river. You could say he was thirsty and could only be quenched by the sacred taste of your heavenly waters.
On his knees and panting with each stroke of his tongue, both your hands gripped his hair like titanium and kept him situated where he should be. His hands were also busy gripping your hips leaving behind his fingerprints for evidence that you were caught and devoured by a vicious hunter on the loose. Your cries were a catalyst for him to pursue and never back down no matter what came his way; it didn’t matter if his neck began hurting from the awkward position he was craning to reach your heat. All that mattered was him rewarding your fantasy and his deprivation.
With an antagonistic push, he parted your legs much further to allow his tongue to slip lower and dip past your entrance. Curling and thrusting to collect any extra arousal you had hiding deep within. He made perfect use of the new gateway to switch back and forth between flicking and drawing lazy circles around your clit and thrusting his said tongue and enjoying the clamping effect around his tongue. In between, he would slip in a deep rumble, allowing the vibrations to travel up his tongue and simulate your clit as he slurped on it like a pacifier.
In response, your fingers would curl deeper into his hair and tug out of the confusion of whether you wanted him to continue or stop as the pressure returned in the pit of your stomach. Burning and building with every flick of his tongue; it most certainly did not help when his emerald eyes flashed upwards to meet your hazed expression. Why must he appear so innocent, masking the snarky demon he buried underneath? You sometimes found it implausible to acknowledge he was the same individual he changed into something unfathomable. Your hunter became an actual hunter.
But he laughed. He laughed and chuckled at the confusion dwelling in your eyes the longer you looked on as he worked. His saliva and your arousal mixed as he continued to slurp at your cunt, feeling the vibrations of your body increasing as he added more fervour to his actions. He couldn’t wait for you to release all over his tongue like you always did. Henceforth, he pushed on, listening to your pleas to ‘not stop’ and to ‘keep going’ as your body trembled uncontrollably. He couldn’t believe he was genuinely going back on his words of being intimate in the open for all creatures to bear witness. God, he hoped no one was nearby or asked the creature about the activity within the forest.
“Beleg, oh God please!” you shrieked as you pushed his face closer to be ultimately buried and stained with your arousal—not that he minded at all.
His hand slipped off your hips to run up and down your thighs in a soothing manner, coaxing your orgasm to come faster. Furthermore, he wanted to remove you off the tree trunk, only aware that your back would be slightly bruised from all the impact your body made. Something he would have to nurse and also hear complaints about.
Because of the humour, he found in the thought, his soft chuckling goaded the remaining strength you fought to keep to bring your orgasm crashing upon his face and into his mouth. Taking a moment to savour everything that ran out, he rolled his tongue from your slit all the way to your bundle of nerves before dragging it back down and dipping it inside. He fought off your hands which consistently attempted to push him away due to your sensitivity being high, however, he persisted nonetheless and ignored your protest. When he was ready to finish, he would.
Slapping your hands away from his hair after it was left unkept—silvery strands unbound from his neatened ponytail and single braid—he gathered them in his left hand, while his right slipped between your legs to join his tongue. Balancing despite the awkwardness, he wasted no time sliding his middle and fourth finger in and abusing your sweet spot. He took the moment to pull away for the first time and find reprieve, chest heaving as he took in large gulps of air before leaning in to kiss his way up your thighs.
“Tired already?” he snickered as he kissed your belly button and observed as you sucked it in. “I’ve barely started you know.”
Expecting a verbal reply because you had a smart tongue, he was surprised when no words escaped, and only mouthless mutters were elicited. Your body bowed off the tree trunk forcing him to rise from his position and act as an anchor to prevent you from doubling over. Face pressing into his stomach while you remained restrained and forced to endure another orgasm, your inaudible cries were a delight in Beleg’s eyes. To know that was the level of effect he had over your fragile body with such simple actions only enticed him to act with more vigour and increase the speed of his fingers.
“Hmph!” Muffled by his tunic, your lips parted to drool since sounds refused to fall from them. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape the torment he played upon you; consider it your own torture you devised for yourself without being aware of the severity.
Feeling the curls and thrusts of his fingers fitting themselves along your walls and enjoying the spongy texture, you clenched. With want and desire to have him remould your insides the way he normally would and leave a lasting effect, you clamped down tighter to force his presence to dwell longer. Unfortunately, Beleg had the strength to match the warmth and temptation you seduced, laughing at the feeble tries.
He rocked with you as you faced another orgasm, unable to do anything since your legs were weakened at this point. It was he who kept you standing, otherwise you’d collapse and from the rate he was going, you weren’t sure if he would be able to continue supporting you. Your entire body was growing numb and jelly–like.
“You’re going to cum for me again? A third time in ten minutes,” he mocked with a burst of adolescent laughter ricocheting throughout the surroundings. “It seems I made the right catch—I’m going to enjoy every inch of you, little deer.”
There wasn’t much you could do as a third orgasm rocked your body; it was less intense but due to your sensitivity, it made your senses heightened and everything concentrated. Your legs were the first part of you to give away and forced Beleg to slide his fingers out to snatch you into his embrace. He propped you against him, shouldering your non–existent weight with gentle pats to your back as you cried in his arms. Shuffling tresses of your hair out your sweaty face, he wiped whatever beads of sweat he could, out of your eyes.
From his point of view, you were out of orbit with a glassy look in your eyes and puffy lips from how hard you were chewing on them. All the whimpering and crying that escaped your throat left it sore like sandpaper scraping against the insides. This was all his doing and Beleg felt his pride surging at the recognition of his abilities; there was never a day when you were intimate where he wasn’t amazed at the limits he was able to push you to. Though, this wasn’t anywhere near the groundbreaking heights you’ve been before.
Sinking to his knees, he took you to the ground and positioned you on your hands and knees, not before placing a kiss on your head to account for the roughness he was about to deliver. At the pivotal moment he had finally arrived at, all forms of gentleness were about to vacate his actions now that you were ready to be served on his plate as the main course; his time for desert was over. This was the moment when he indulged in the main course of his hunt and enjoyed the overall thrill of the game.
Despite his movements orchestrated being gentle, you felt wobbly and weak as he positioned you in the required situation for taking. Being placed on your knees was a familiar setup, having been there numerous times and only when he was in that mood. You knew what to expect, you were the benefactor of the entire scenario, so this was your reward. And so, your hands and face—after he pushed your dress under you—collided with the rough forest floor, your butt situated in the air as he knelt behind, timelessly removing his leggings with eagerness in his eyes.
They feasted on the sight of your puffy lips facing and inviting him for more, to which he politely answered by running the tip of his cock through your folds. One hand gripping the base of his erection while the other reached out to press into the base of your spine, pushing you into a more debauching position. The burn at the base of your spine the deeper he pressed, arching your back lower only ended until your legs complied and spread along to meet his requirements. With your face pressed against your dress to save it from being bruised, yet your knees weren’t spared one bit, the last sound you coherently heard was a hiss before the feeling of his robust cock moulding your insides.
The entire idea of rearranging one’s insides was perfectly executed by Beleg after understanding the headspace he ought to be in to completely enjoy the bliss of the game. Grunting and groaning with every thrust, his head was tossed back, and his hair fell over his shoulder as his melody ricocheted throughout the forest. Both hands were digging into the base of your spine, pressing his weight upon your smaller figure to prevent any movements other than his own as he drilled into you. You could say you were in a tumultuous battle, losing but also winning with the ultimate you were experiencing currently.
There was no time for you to grab onto anything but the remaining sanity from the diabolical rolls of his hips with each thrust, sending himself deeper. Caught between feeling his tip rubbing your sweet spot and bruising your cervix, tears sprung from your tears at the intensity of the heightened moment. Everything felt as though it was on fire—a cooling, quenching flame that melted everything perfectly. His touch on your waist, his thighs knocking against yours and the motion of his member fitting itself where it belonged. With every thrust, your body jolted and shivered, and in return, a deep, hearty chuckle was emitted.
Taking the moment to study your expressions, Beleg dropped his head and raked his eyes over your glossy and distant pair, cross–eyed and gazing off into the forest with trickles of salty water running. Your lips were swollen from all the gnawing and parted as you released desperate pants and moans. The sight of you all fucked out before the real hunt had begun was the best part about the entire scenario; he would never forget how much you begged, only to be knocked out of reality.
“Look at you—such a pretty deer,” he complimented and shifted his right hand higher to brush your hair out your face. “Moan for me some more, meleth.”
The command flowed to your already wired brains to obey his every order; your lips released strings of moans. His name fell elegantly from your lips when the actions which condoned the consequences were quite the opposite. The power he held over you which resonated in the viciousness of his thrusts were inconsequential to any you would ever experience. Your back curled into each of his wicked rolls, your ass pressed into his hips to meet his thrusts instead of running away and your fingers dug holes into the ground, each a testament to the unrestraint dominance he displayed.
At some point, his right leg was hiked for stability, allowing his weight to be easily displaced to sink you further into the floor. What was previously debauching was now impossible at the newest position he pushed you into for the sake of reaching deeper and keeping the visceral trait of a hunter enjoying his prey. There was no point in running away, you couldn’t twitch an inch out of his grasp much less moan coherent phrases. You were sure at some point a bark, howl or yelp slipped out from how pathetic you were sounding. Nonetheless, to Beleg, it was all he wanted to hear as he lost himself in the heat of your cunt.
The sponginess that cocooned his cock like a weighted blanket and moulded to the shape of his robustness and girth felt divine. For every thrust, he was met with acceptance through the form of a gentle or suffocating squeeze—for when he hit the right spot. There was nothing that could top the comfort and heat you provided, additionally, with the thrill of being out in the open for anyone to witness the obscenities, he was blessed with your arousal flowing all over his member. The sheen which glistened under the minimal light through the peeks of the canopy, radiated all over his cock. Not too far in the distance, there was the lavish sound of his balls slapping against your puff cunt. Kissing your lips with each meet and carefully stimulating your bundle of nerves.
Taking the hand that brushed your hair away, he dragged it to meet your nape and placed you under a headlock. Now, with your face planted into your dress, cheeks squeezing against the material as it dragged across the forest floor, Beleg was able to force the final weight of himself on top of you, sinking the rest of your body into the ground. Grunting like a wild animal in heat in the depths of your ear, he raged on. Hips ferociously slapping against your ass and leaving the area stinging, you felt the flexing of his muscles with each thrust. His thighs clenching and stiffing as he repositioned for a better angle, you felt it all with the proximity he achieved.
Lying atop and sandwiching you into the floor, he took the moment to reach for your hands, still wanting to bring a bit of romanticism to the rough act and bringing them to rest beside your head. He took the chance to pepper your upper back in kisses, soothing the areas that were slightly bruised from the tree bark. As he did so, he whispered little compliments and praises into your skin, encouraging you to meet his halfway and bathe in pleasure.
“Such a good cunt, and all mine. Hmm, gonna let me cum in it and fill it up? Mark you as mine, meleth?” he mumbled into your ear, nibbling on the tip. Feel drunk in the moment as you grew wetter and sloppier, he stopped his thrusting and gyrated his hips to allow his tip to rub continuously against your sweet spot. Your fingers curled into his, clawing at the dirt and your head dropped to release a silent scream. Toes curling and stomach fluttering, you could barely keep up with all his frantic fiasco.
“Do you feel that? Your sweet little cunt knows it needs to be tamed—see how well she takes me,” he continued while his tip grazed and applied a substantial volume of weight within your walls. “She wants me to put her down and claim her as mine.”
His words did something to both you and him. For you, it made your insides tingle and pulsate like a little heartbeat whispering ‘I love you’, while for him, it brought his orgasm a step closer than he expected. Just the mere thought of releasing all his seed and marking you as his absolute prize was even a greater turn–on—something he came to realise and would incorporate often.
Feeling the closure of his race coming abruptly, he pushed his face into your hair and laughed, “Ha, gonna milk my cock and let me make you mine!”
“Beleg, p–please…” you whimpered, panting at the swelling of his cock, growing heavier as time seemed to traverse through the ages. All the gyrating was stimulating and torturing the more he applied pressure, and his growing weight did nothing to ease the anticipation of being flooded with his seed.
In due time, he could no longer restrain the overwhelming surge of desire to possess you, and he soon released himself into your womb. His warm cum flooded your intimate passage, continuously pulsating as his member twitched uncontrollably. Your inner walls responded by clenching around him, aiding in milking every last drop he had to give. There was no escape for him from the tight embrace you had on his member, compelling him to linger a while longer until you deemed it time for him to withdraw.
As you lay there on the forest floor, both of your bodies quivered. His laboured breaths, escaping in raspy pants, sent warm puffs of air down your neck, causing goosebumps to rise. Tranquillity settled in, replacing the earlier sounds of nightingales and mockingbirds singing in the distance, the frogs croaking, and other creatures scurrying across the forest floor. It appeared that your activities had neither alarmed nor traumatized the wildlife.
However, the position you were in had become uncomfortable, and you needed to clean up. “Beleg,” you rasped, capturing his attention and interrupting his brief moment of nuzzling into your hair. “I’d like to move, please.”
Amused by your request, he couldn’t help but tease. “Can you?” he chuckled, well aware of how your body had likely been pushed to its limits during those intense moments. Every twist and turn had been well worth the prospect of experiencing it all over again.
Receiving an annoyed glare from you, he apologetically grimaced and gently disengaged from your embrace, making sure to tidy himself up and brush away any errant leaves. He then reached out to pick you up, ensuring your comfort. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” Figuring that it was sensible to relocate your position, not deeming it sanitary enough to continue anything further, he gingerly scooped you and your dress up and marched back to the pool.
Request: I lost the request after @floraroselaughter deactivated her account. It was based on a Beleg and the reader's first meeting in the forest after getting lost.
A/N: Ending fics are so difficult, there needs to be a way to end a fic. I also forgot how similar this fic is to the last one released with Finarfin.
Warnings: none, just fluff and softness
Words: 2.5k
Synopsis: Sometimes a storm isn't always terrible when love becomes the result.
Don’t wander too far into the forest!
Your mother’s words were a lost cause as your hands touched a shrouded object that appeared as a vine wrapped around a tree trunk. Stumbling over the fallen, mossy log, your clothes became stained with the green slime now smeared across your palms as well. With shaky legs, you swivelled around at the crowing of a bird…or some wild beast as the sun set and night rolled in. The wind in the forest was unnatural and untamed, similar to the light from the canopy. Your vision was obscured at some point, blotched of black and green appearing across your sight and leaving you frantically trekking across the mossy floor. Your wobbly legs almost caused you the slip and slide.
If only you had heeded her words, you wouldn’t have crossed the border and trailed into the unknown. Where were at the moment…approaching the borders of Doriath, but you hadn’t a clue.
Continuing to push through the thick undergrowth and stumbling over the slimy green moss, the further it seemed that you walked, the forest remained the same. The trees, rocks, canopy, croaking of the frogs, buzzing of the insects, the cawing of the birds, everything was similar to the last five minutes ago. Perhaps the time had frozen and ceased to move onwards, pushing you to move in so infinite loop…or a circle. Surely a circle made more sense. You should have marked the trees like your father and brother usually did when hunting. At this point, panic slowly crept in, and your footsteps hurried. Your breathing grew frantic, whining and crying as you moved closer to the border unbeknownst to yourself.
It didn’t matter how many times you tripped over your feet or the thickets, you continued to move forward in hopes of arriving home. Anything could be out there. Some wild beast…or the evil of Morgoth. Just the thought of him made your blood curdle. A look over your shoulder to your left and then right, you saw nothing but more shrouded figures of black and green. Was your mind playing tricks on you, or was it just the forest?
The more you trekked, the darker and darker it grew. The light was no longer shining through the canopy and the sun had finally set. Casting an eye to the sky, you couldn’t make out if it were clouds or just the open sky hanging menacingly overhead. At the same time, the unnatural wind blew aggressively throughout the forest, howling and cackling bringing a natural phenomenon. Rain.
The drops were light at first, scattered showers as the canopy did most of the catching, but it wasn’t for long. There came a moment when the canopy ceased to perform its job and allowed for the heavier downpour to burst through the roofs and drench you to the bone. Your clothes now clung to your skin, your hair matted to your face and your skin cold. Thunder and lightning danced across the sky, illuminating and laughing as it went, scaring every pour creature along the way. What little sight you had then was lost to the rain.
But you walked and stumbled, tripped and fell, skid and skated until your legs grew tired and heaved their final breath before plummeting to the muddy ground. You lay curled up against a remnant, shielded by an overgrowth of vines and moss, and cried.
The wet droplets cascaded down your cheeks, rolling into every crevice they could find, soaking you to the bone. The frigid temperatures were becoming more dangerous the longer you were left in the open. Your teeth clattered and knocked against one another—you were sure your tongue was already bitten—releasing an eerie tune.
The tune though, didn’t sound eerie for long. In the distance, you could hear sounds that were unfamiliar with the pattern of rainfall. It was distant, slowly approaching and then near before the sounds had stopped. Your consciousness cried out to move your tongue to respond to the calls, but your eyes had grown weary from being awake for long tedious hours—your body followed soon after.
Forever wasn’t forever when you awoke to the feeling of being carried, airborne. The light sensation of the rain falling against your cheek was still there, but not enough to distract the floating feeling. Had you transcended? There was something soft holding your body around your shoulders and legs, too soft but muscular. How could such a combination exist among the race of men? There was the forceful attempt at opening your eyes to view the saviour or person who carried your body like a bag of feathers. This person moved without their feet touching the ground, you presumed. You felt no friction in their motion; they were gliding through the air carrying your body around.
The sound returned. The same sounds during the rainfall, but up close, it resonated…sweeter. There was a bird tweeting in your ear, calling out and demanding you were cared for. Since when birds sounded this beautiful?
The voice was lulling you into a deeper trance, pushing you to return to sleep and rest. Its hands were cradling your body like you were a baby and nestling you on warm blankets, swaddling and encompassing.
“Are you going to report this to the King?”
“…There’s no need to. We’ll send them on their way after requesting their purpose for wandering near the borders.”
“…Sir—”
“—It’s alright Galion. I have this.”
Lying awake in a bed of cotton and wool, you awoke to the sound of voices conversing about your disposal or arrest. From what you gathered; you were trespassing while wandering through the forest. Retaining your position, you craned your ear to listen for the echoes of any more words about your whereabouts and situation, unfortunately finding none. There was no sound to trace other than silence in the room and the soft howling of the wind outside. The rain was still raging.
It felt like minutes you were lying there, listening for some resonance to whip past your ear and provide relief other than the wooden windows knocking and wind. You wanted to take in the view of the area you were inhabiting but nerves and consciousness ticked at your brain to reject the idea. Something was off, and it urged your body to uncontrollably twitch and itch in the wooden cot. A toss of your left leg to ease the pressure in your lower back, a scratch to your chest and an overly, loud and unnecessary sigh, was enough to call it quits.
“How long are you going to pretend to be asleep?” You could hear the humour in his voice and see the smirk on his face. Even the crossing of his arms and the crossed leg as he leaned against the tree trunk. It was a common stance most would assume when persecuting another.
Shutting your eyes tightly and taking a loud gulp, you attempted to force your body back to sleep, though, the approaching footsteps weren’t assisting. He hovered, but you couldn’t describe the look on his face, not this time. He could be angry, annoyed, confused, curious or concerned. So many to choose from. His voice displayed authority; thus, annoyance was the way to go.
“How long are you going to ignore me…wanderer?” Ah, there it was, annoyance. Just a small fraction of it laced in his tone. There you pictured it, brows furrowed, lips pursed, eyes narrowed, cheeks huffed, and jaw clenched. All that was missing was the rest of his physical structure, though, at this point, wasn’t necessary.
Tightening your eyes and squeezing your lips together, you felt a jab to your left shoulder followed by a gentle shake. “Please don’t ignore me, I’m only doing my duty,” he pleaded. His voice mellowed and softened like the bird you heard earlier. It was him! Your body jolted and tingled once again.
Honey flooded your body. The gooey and sticky sensation was welcoming to the sweetness that followed. Your heart thrummed and beat a little faster than usual—you are a like bee buzzing for honey, flapping a hundred times in a few seconds. His hand had not once left your shoulder, spreading a cooling and desirous fire. It started from your shoulder, through your chest and settled in the pit of your belly, warm and inviting. You had a dam that released millions of butterflies in your stomach, mixing perfectly with the fire. When you suspected your feeling to be melted, or disintegrated, your butterflies danced with the liquid fire.
Peeking through your lashes, his appearance at first was fuzzy, blurred a sightly. You could make out how fit his silhouette was—mostly from his gab. The final chance you took to peel back the veiled curtains, your breath was stuck in your throat. If your brain at that moment told you to run because of danger, you would forsake all composure and common sense to remain locked in the beauty of holding eye contact with the stranger above you. Beautiful. That was the final physical description you were missing to fit his appearance.
Silver hair tied into a neatly combed ponytail and a single braid at the side, pulled back to meet the rest. A simple hairdo which amplified his beauty to greater heights.
Staring was considered offensive, but if it were a crime, you would have gladly been arrested all over again if it meant gazing at the miraculous creature before you. Growing up in the far easter villages meant being away from the elves and only hearing stories from the counsel and heads. Their beauty was unparallel and universally unmatched. The tales were true, but they never spoke of the racing heart or sweaty palms or uncontrollable flustered state.
Gawking at the male above you, his lips twitched at the corners before kneeling at bed level to come face-to-face. You noticed that his hand had not once moved from your shoulder; the grip was loose, a timid touch. His face, however, told you he was aware of your state, he knew what you were thinking. That’s what the tales spoke of; the elves read minds, so he knew yours instantly.
“…” Opening your mouth to explain yourself, your words failed.
“It is…alright. I understand,” he whispered. “I am Beleg, a Marchwarden of Doriath, and you?” Sitting on the floor, Beleg observed your starstruck expression, amused and touched. You were experiencing what he felt in the manner mortals expressed themselves, vividly.
Beleg. A pretty hand for a handsome elf, but he shouldn’t be a warrior. His face would be destroyed and gone would be his ageless beauty.
Shifting to sit upright, the motion caused his hand to slide off your shoulder and you to cringe at the loss of touch. Staring at his limp hand, you reached out to brush your fingers against it before cautiously enveloping it entirely—despite the size differences between mortal and elf. Dragging your eyes to meet his mirth-filled ones, staring at your intertwined hands, you called out to him, “You are too beautiful to be a warrior, your beauty will be ruined.” Your free hand rose to cup his cheek.
Melting at the touch, he too, lifted his other hand to rest against yours and held it to his face. Eyes glowing with mirth, filled with thousands of stars twinkling in the background, high above the canopy and into the unknown. His eyes sparkled and twinkled, even winked an arrow of love through your heart to solidify what will become his undying passion.
“I believe it I who should worry about your beauty being ruined when you are wandering the forest alone at night during a storm. Why?”
“I got lost…lost searching for something.”
“I hope it was me because I found you just as you found me,” he reassured in a honeyed tone. It was abnormal for an interaction like this to occur between mortals, but this was different. He security and comfort, peace and home. Love.
“Perhaps it was you calling to me like a siren calls a sailor, singing to me like the stars do every night. Begging me to find you,” you breathed with a hint of a smirk.
Reaching over to kiss your hand, he chuckled into your skin, “I am an excellent singer, so maybe it was me indeed… But now that you are here, what next?”
“Well, I cannot stay, I must return home; my family will be worried.”
Darting his head to the window to peek through the slight opening, a bolt of lightning scattered across the sky soundlessly. While his face displayed a sullen expression, his heart soared at the awareness of you staying with him longer. “The storm is still raging on; you must wait before leaving.”
“Then after the storm passes and the forest clears up, I will return home.”
“Then allow me to escort you home safely, I would very much love to see you again. I fear that I am not ready for this moment to be over so quickly—we’ve only just met!” he begged, body leaning closer with pleading eyes.
His pouting face was the last expression you assumed he could make. It refused to match his physique. The body of a warrior and the face of a puppy told you a lot about much of a sweet person he was capable of being. To reject him would be another crime, one you refused to pay for.
“You wish to see me after I return?” you asked stunted.
He hummed and sighed, “I absolutely do! I do not wish for this to be a one-time meeting between us. Even if I must escape my guard duties to meet again, I would.”
“We’ve only just met and you’re already professing your vows. We barely know each other,” you giggled, attempting to lighten the situation and ease the tension.
“Then I will tell you all that I am, without secrets,” he reassured. “I will be honest and true to you, and I will love you for the rest of my life.” Giving your hands a light squeeze, his eyes widened with excitement at the revelation of your acceptance. His day started terribly and ended in euphoria, just as yours did. You appeared to him like a dream; unreal, and now that you were here, he wasn’t ready to part ways. You were a sign from the Valar, a gift to him like the stars were to all, special.
“Love?” you murmured.
Nodding his head as he leaned in closer, he reassured, “Yes, love. It is what has grown between you and I. Do you not feel it?” The hand that once cupped his cheek was pushed to rest against your heart, emphasising the truth.
A pregnant pause settled between you both as you took the moment to gather your thoughts. He was right, your heart was fluttering about like a bird and your body was feeling relaxed in his presence. “I do,” you croaked. “My heart feels light and elated, jubilant to learn of this newfound desire.”
“Hmm, that is your heart telling you that we are destined to be written among the stars. Our love was foretold; we are soulmates. Let us be as designed.” His pitch dropped to coo at you.
“This feels unnatural, never before. It's exhilarating but scary.”
“That is what love makes us feel, but take the leap of fate with me...please. Let us love each other.”
Stewing over his words, you chewed on the inside of your cheek, flipping answers around your head until you settled on one. “...Moments like this only come once in a lifetime, and I would hate to pass the opportunity... So, I accept your proposal. I will learn to love you Beleg.”
Beleg With An Affectionate Reader Would Include...
𑁍 The both of you are a match made in heaven because he’s also a very affectionate person and is quick to show you in all the forms of touch.
𑁍 He’s not someone who has a problem with PDA, so his hands are always around your waist or shoulders. A kiss planted firmly to your cheek or lips in front of anyone minus the King and Queen.
𑁍 He’s the type when you are in public to stand behind you and cuddle you, no shame. He’ll rest his face in the crook of your neck and litter tons of kisses and whispers of his love you.
𑁍 Beleg isn’t a jealous person, but if he sees someone attempting to steal you away or making advances towards you, he’ll become a bit aggressive in his affections by kissing you with more passion or giving your butt a little pinch or squeeze for individual to get the hint. Don't worry, he's not gonna sit outside the person's house with his bow and arrow.
𑁍 Shamelessly making out with you in the barracks, knowing fully well him soldiers can and will walk in any minute and see their march warden in a heated make our session.
𑁍 He’ll sneak his hands to wander to your butt and give you little taps or squeezes to hear you gasp or giggle. He loves to pass and smack your butt in public.
𑁍 You do reciprocate and he too enjoys the actions. Once Mablung saw and wanted to gouge his eyes out and wash them to forget what he saw.
𑁍 When you both are within the confinements of your home, his affections go up a notch. More touches and more risqué kisses.
𑁍 Cuddling is a whole lot easier now that he can wrap his entire body around yours and drag you off to the sofa or bed and entrap you forever. He doesn’t like to let you go once you’re in his arms.
𑁍 There are times when he’s cooking, you’ll spring onto his back and cling to him like a monkey, allowing him to carry you about the place without a care in the world. Your weight doesn’t bother him.
𑁍 Beleg loves to dance with you, with or without music, he twirls you around, give you dips and sway with you from side to side while looking into your eyes lovingly.
𑁍 As cheeky as he is, he’ll swoop in to steal a kiss or two, maybe more and then act all smug about the situation.
𑁍 Whenever you reciprocate all his affections, he’ll pretend that he isn’t affected by them at all, but when he disappears, he’s screaming into his pillows and blushing like a young ellon approaching maturity.
𑁍 Sometimes whenever you two are cuddling and you lean over to kiss him, you’ll catch a glimpse of his feet swaying in the air while you shower in your kisses. Beleg doesn’t care if he accidentally died while you were smothering him in kisses, it’s the best way to die: by your love.
𑁍 Did someone say flowers and perhaps an animal gifted to you as a pet? Yes, Beleg will gift you the cutest little bunny or maybe a little wolf cub as a gift and a ton of flowers whenever he returns from his shift at the boarders.
𑁍 At times, like 2 am, you’ll hear a light tap on your window and there you’ll see a silvery haired ellon hanging upside down telling you to come outside to show you the moon in it’s full glow. “Beleg, it’s 2 in the morning, I was sleeping.” “Yeah I know but look the moon!”
𑁍 He’s basically an affectionate puppy that’s in the form of a giant seven foot elf.
Masterlist | Underrated Character Event Masterlist |
A/N: I just love the idea of Beleg serving as a Royal Guard and then falling in love with some angst :) Can't tell you how proud I am of this fic >.<
Warnings: flashbacks, mentions of nudity, suggestive, mentions of premarital sex, groping each other in semi-public, talks and plans of eloping, kissing/making out, mentions of faking death, arguments, Beleg and reader are displayed as mortals in this AU
Words: 3.7k
Synopsis: Breaking his oath and choosing death as his punishment, Beleg faces a crisis where matters of the heart refuse to accept his self-made trial, and a second chance for love to bloom without fear and the looming of oaths and death.
Citizens of state,
By decree of His Royal Majesty, all males over
the age of sixteen are to come forth and present
themselves as soldiers for the upcoming war.
You are tasked with the honourable duty
of protecting your women and children,
young and old, helpless and sick.
On this day forth, you are reqired to give your name
and dedicate your life to your Kingdom
The King
The first time you heard those words, there was no reaction from you, none whatsoever. You stood in the stone archway of the city hall with your Royal Guard to your right, listening to every word your father carefully chose to announce his declaration of the upcoming war. It was considered normal for a Kingdom to witness war, yours suffering two and surviving the aftermath for many years, it was a part of the entire order of ruling. There were few who were blessed to remove themselves far away from the constant chaos the realms would throw themselves into. Whether it be for a lover or wealth and riches or for an old family feud, most of the time, your home found itself participating due to its allegiances with many.
When the true meaning of the war struck you, there wasn’t anything you could do. Watching the countless young boys—maturity had not graced them—carrying the weight of the sharp and polished metal in their hands, accompanied by silver garnishing them from head to toe, your stomach lurched. Many of the faces you sullenly observed as you strolled through the courtyard were grim and hollow. Your father was sending hungry men out there to fight for your home. What little strength could they possibly have to swing a sword and defend their possessions?
Their stringed arms swung about the air attempting to strike at the wooden dummies, others, at their living target. Anyone could see the fear and weakness these men possessed. How could your father possess thousands of skilled and battle–hardened warriors but still require the lesser and meek people? Was there, not enough pain and suffering by sending skilled warriors who were sons, fathers and brothers? They were dancing with one foot in their grave with death.
But even you would come to hurt with them as well.
Your eyes scanned the area for that familiar mop of silver, but your heart dropped at the loss of his figure. There was no glimpse of him anywhere. Deep down, you knew he would be hiding from you, slowly retracting his presence and passing your protection to another Royal Guard he trusted while he disappeared. His name was known for being the best at the tournaments, having knocked countless of their horses and leaving many broken and battered. His speed and agility had caught your father’s eyes, but it was his charming smile he cast when he caught your floral bouquet during the standing ovation. None but yours has captured his eyes…and heart so much, that in his haste, he bent the knee and pledged his servitude to your house.
Your Royal Guard.
He followed you everywhere you went, standing five steps behind and always at your beck and call.
Rounding the corner and coming to an empty tunnel, your footsteps echoed before you came to another to your right and there he stood. His posture was rigid and straight. His left hand was on the hilt of his sword and his right was limp at his side. You knew he already sensed you—he called it his keen animalistic senses the Gods blessed him with—yet he made no move alerting you of his knowhow. His eyes remained ahead as he watched the autumn leaves fall to the ground and transform into a boat in the puddles. Autumn was his favourite season…no, it was spring, but it became his favourite after your confession and dance in the rain. He hated the cold, but when he met you, it became his hymn.
Heels clicking in the distance as you approached him, the corners of your lips upturned as you covered the grounds and appeared at his right side. Neither of you said anything as you observed strong gusts of wind tearing the fragile leaves of the trees and scattering them about without a care. You wished to reach out and hold him, touch him in any way before you parted. Your last with him was months ago and he dared to not touch you again until everything was over. All you had were fragmented memories of lying on a pile of straws in a hidden room.
The cool summer wind curled through the vents of the old storage mill while you and Beleg lay curled up beside each other bare. An old tarp was laid on the ground for you both to sleep on while his cloak covered you, mostly the lower regions. His left arm acted as his pillow while his right did the same for you. Your right leg was slung across his hips and half your body draped over his.
Not much was said between you both, not much was ever exchanged between you both. He understood and knew his place as a Royal Guard even though he broke his oath multiple times to have you to himself. While he sometimes claimed it was done out of lust, he would debate and whisper three words he normally rolled his eyes at when others said it. However, tonight, there wasn’t anything said between you both since the declaration was made that morning. In a fit of rage, he rushed to meet with you after dark to release his frustration.
“I could do it, you know, but I would not place you through that harsh life,” he whispered to break the silence, “I can be selfish…well, I am selfish as my friends say. But I cannot watch you suffer by my selfish actions.”
The day you mentioned running away with him after he broke his oath to bed you, it was all he constantly kept reminding you about. He knew you like the back of his hand within the first three months, you were too predictable. He loved you, but he could not bring himself to run away and make you leave your luxurious life behind. There was nothing he could truly provide for you outside the Kingdom. A life as a hunter was not always fruitful, could you settle for that?
“I would still run away with you if given the opportunity Beleg.” You reached your right hand up to cup his face and bring his focus on you. You saw the hesitancy in his forest–green eyes; he wanted to agree but he thought of the repercussions. The Kingdom would label him as a kidnapper and a bounty would be placed on his head.
“You know life would be dangerous if we left, love,” he reminded you with a whisper. His body shifted to lie on the right side to face you.
“If I did not know, then I would not have suggested it.”
You were so naïve in his eyes, and he loved it about you.
Sacrifice was necessary at times if he wanted it to work.
Peeking up at him, his face was still afront and stone set. He wasn’t great at hiding his thoughts especially when they involved strategic planning, so you could see his thoughts written all over his face. Dropping your eyes from his face, they roamed his full-plated armour. He was dressed in silver accompanied by his silver hair tied into a man–bun. Returning to look at the withering tree before you, there was a curt intake of breath followed by a pregnant pause. Beleg’s stance shifted to stand at ease and the hand on the hilt of his sword dropped. Within an instant, you were pulled into a choking embrace.
All sense of composure left you the moment his arms surrounded your waist, and you returned the gesture despite the uncomfortable poking of his armour. Both your faces easily buried into each other’s neck, breathing in the scent of lavender and mint. His chest plate moved aggressively against your unprotected chest from his laboured breathing the tighter he squeezed you. His body pushed and pressed with half its weight as he backed you against the cold cobblestone wall. A loud gasp left your lips the moment you collided with the frigid stone and was soon muffled but the scent of mint waffled through your nostrils. Lips that were a mixture of pillows and sandpaper dragged against yours, desperate to taste you one last time.
His ragged breathing was stuffy in your ear the more he panted as his lips interlocked with yours aggressively. The loud smacking of wet lips echoed in the tunnel, but you two were too far lost in the closure of one another to care. He made the first move in the open, all you were required to do was follow suit.
His right hand travelled lower to grip your leg and hoist it around his waist while his fingers massaged the flesh through the material. The other hand was busy cupping the nape of your neck and tilting your head upwards to angle the kiss deeper. He was torn between wanting to devour or cherish you at the moment. All sane actions were lost and forgotten; all that mattered was you and him currently. Gasping when you felt him tilt your head at an unorthodox angle, he bit your bottom lip, seeking entrance which you granted with ease. The minute his tongue slipped past your lips to meet yours, the grip and weight on your body increased and a growl emanated from within.
Your body was easily hoisted off the ground despite the leg wrapped around his waist; you had to scramble to wrap the other around him. They were both entangled in his cloak. You could feel the palm of his right hand cupping your butt while respectfully restraining himself from squeezing it like he desired. You on the other hand were losing a battle of the tongue as he pried songs from you. Not once did you two stop to cater to the passing soldiers from above who could be your audience as you both moaned and groaned into each other’s mouths. The longing desire between you both blinded all other voices of reason…for you.
Wrapping his tongue around yours and dancing with your muscle, he pulled more songs from you and groaned in response. Breaking the kiss to drag his lips across your jaw, nipping and biting as he moved, and down your neck, he froze once his lips collided with the juncture of your shoulder. Hovering his lips over your slightly reddened skin, you could feel the heat from his warm breath and shivered. At that moment, his eyes reopened and focused on the grey wall behind you. Thoughts hurdled across this mind, contending with him to make his final decision and end his games. Consciousness returned and seized control of his mindless body, urging him to have some pride and dignity. He was a Royal Guard, not your lover.
Unhurriedly, he straightened his posture and towered over you once more, flashing you his forest-green eyes that were filled with confusion and anger. Inch by inch, he pulled back until he settled you onto the ground and returned to his stationed distance.
“Beleg, what’s wrong?” you inquired while licking your lips to soothe the swelling of them.
His response made your heart sink when he bowed at a right angle and greeted you formally. “Your Highness, apologies. I was…savouring one last moment between us.” His eyes refused to meet yours and chose to settle at your feet.
Tears immediately prickled the corners of your eyes as you stared at his retracted demeanour. What happened to just now?
“Beleg—”
“With all due respect if I may, it is Ser Beleg Cúthalion, Your Highness.” He corrected.
“What is the meaning of this?!” you cried.
Hearing the crack in your voice and knowing that tears were streaming down your face, he still kept his face to the cobblestone and bowed with greater depth. “Your Highness…this should end between us. I should have never initiated anything from the very start. I knew you were gullible and I abused it to satisfy my personal needs. I-…I found it impossible to comprehend that I would have nothing as a Royal Guard, and yet there you were, as beautiful as the dawn. I desired and I craved you like you were the air I needed to breathe.”
“Beleg…”
He straightened his posture but still refused to look at you. “I had my fill, and I loved every minute I spent with you, despite craving more. There’s a difference between us and it is a wall impossible to climb,” he paused to exhale and sniffle, “I tried to climb it out of foolishness believing that I was blessed, and if I was caught, my life would be lost. I’ve already lost my dignity and oath the day I took you, please allow me to keep whatever little I have left.”
You didn’t bother wiping your tears away and left them to fall, staining your garment with darker blotches. Your eyes were reddened, cheeks swollen, and lips curled back, ready to snarl. If only you could lunge at him and shake the stupidity out of his yolkless brain to make him see how much you did not care, you would. You were willing to leave your entire life behind to spend out your days with him. Nothing mattered, not even if his trade was being a hunter or a carpenter, you loved him and wanted to spend eternity with him. And here he was, unenthusiastically putting up a fight—it wasn’t much of a fight, to begin with.
“Please tell me that you are joking, and it is all part of something greater perhaps?” you pleaded as you took a step closer. Only he took a step backwards. He could hear the sorrow in your voice slowly chipping away the happiness while his temper grew to unparallel lengths.
“I am not Your Highness! You cannot survive on my love—can it cloth your skin, put food on our table? Can it provide us wealth and comfort?” he shouted in anger while maintaining his voice, nothing above the howling of the wind. The temperature had dropped, and a storm was brewing in the mix.
Crying out at his rejection, you refused to accept such truth and pushed against the door he wished to shut in your face. Not after all you two had been through. “So that is your reason?!” you exclaimed, “after spending a lifetime with me beneath starlit tapestry, it meant nothing to you? Do you think that I would love you for pleasure and not desire a future with you? I want to be with you!”
Taking one step closer to you, he trembled in rage at your stubbornness. You were so damn difficult! Why couldn’t you accept his reason and be done with it? Why couldn’t you just accept heartbreak and run off crying? Responding in exasperation, he pinched his nose, “Do not be foolish. You are royalty, above my status. We cannot mix, we cannot be. Do not provoke what little oath I have to myself as your protector. I’ve already betrayed the King by sleeping with his child.”
“I do not believe you! This isn’t you Beleg—you would never tell me these things!” You shook your head, dismissing his explanations.
“I stand as a solitary sentinel, oathbound and condemned to embrace a lone demise. What love could a man, treading the path of death, offer a courtesan who dances amidst the starlit tapestry?” he murmured, his voice a lament, a hollow vessel drained of life's essence.
“Many things,” you hopefully whispered, “so many things that can only be should you choose to live beside me, and not by the grave’s shadow. Your fate is not written in stone yet. Defy destiny's grasp, fight it! You are a warrior with a lion's heart. Fight for us!”
Closing his eyes and shaking his head, he spoke up once more, this time crestfallen, “Why do you foolishly cling to me still? I have a war to fight, if I survived, I will not choose the life of a commoner for you. I do not wish to hear you ask when next is our meal or for new clothes. I know I cannot provide those things for you—I will not be so selfish.”
“Then I will!” you exclaimed and ushered to stand directly before him. Your hands stretched up to cup his cheeks and twist his head to look you in your eyes. Even tears were building up and being collected in his lashes. “Let me embrace selfishness, folly and clumsiness, for my heart beats only for you! The opulent and cold-hearted suitors hold no appeal as my love is yours alone. There is no joy in this world if you are not there to share it with me! Your very existence is my will to live! Does your heart not return my plea?”
Here was the opportunity to reject you completely and leave you run off to cry your heart out. All he had to respond with was ‘no’ meaningfully. It was there on the tip of his tongue ready to eject into the air and hit you directly in your emotions. Break you down and allow you another form of happiness in the end…but he couldn’t. His heart squeezed the word into his throat and suffocated it.
“Beleg, your heart, does it not respond?”
It does, every day and night, but I mustn't give in!
“Does your heart not answer?!”
He looked at the ground and grunted.
“Beleg?!”
“It does! It beats for you day and night, but—”
“But nothing! That is all that matters.”
Silence settled over you both, drowning your thoughts and voices as you continued to lock each other in an intense stare-down. Tears were matching tears. His hands left his sides to grip your wrist and bring them to his lips to kiss before returning them to his cheeks. There were small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled sympathetically. You were the most foolish and naïve person he had ever met. There wasn’t a bone of fear or danger, just a leap of fate and chance, and a measure of courage. He bore all the sense and sensibility to keep you out of trouble.
Beleg was rummaging around his head to find a suitable answer to reject your offer despite your wonderful heartfelt confession, but there wasn’t anything he could manage. You had a solution to everything no matter how crazy the suggestion was. At times, he felt as though he was both royal and guard.
“What sorcery is this that ensnares me in such sweet foolishness? Where have you concealed my reason and prudence? How do you lead me astray, causing me to surrender to this… What mystical incantations have you cast upon my heart?”
“It is the tapestry of emotions called love. We are but humble captives of its gentle grasp,” you confessed with a tender smile, your eyes shimmering as if they held the constellations themselves. “But if you truly desire our union, then fake your death before the battle.”
His head jerked back at how easily the response flew past your lips and eyes darted around for the sake of suspecting eavesdroppers before returning to yours. You were contemplating this for months he could tell.
“And what of you?”
“I would fake my death as well. During the war, attempts to break in occurs. I shall use that as my opportunity of escape and reunite with you, and we can live across the sea where no one would recognise us,” you explained in an excited hush-hush tone. These were your thoughts brewing in a cauldron over the past few months since your first night spent together. All it took was for him to understand and agree.
He bubbled over your suggestions for minutes while refusing to remove himself from your hold. The wind blew and scattered loose leaves throughout the tunnel, the sound of soldiers marching in the courtyard echoes and the song of the bird and beast rattled in the background. He stewed long and pensively over everything, searching for any loopholes that could possibly disrupt the flow of the progression. His blood and heart were singing the more his thoughts channelled until he found nothing.
“And what if no one breaks into the castle?” he challenged.
Shaking your head with a nonchalant smile, you pacified his worry. “There are other means to faking my death during that time without suspicions. All you have to do is fake yours before the war and meet me at an assigned location. I’ll bring enough gold to start us off, we’ll live fine. We can marry like we desire and be together.”
“…I have my doubts about this. This is persecution and death for me, while treason for you.”
“I know, I can see it in your eyes,” you hummed and smiled with your eyes. “But just, try. For us, for me.”
Closing his eyes and heaving, he internally fought the urge to reject the chance to elope, the change to hold you forever in his arms. To kiss, to cherish, to freely love under the moon and stars, all without hinderance. Break my oath to have the love of my life, but it’s already broken. Ha! Nothing ever comes without risk to get reward, even if death clung like a leech… Then so be it!
“…Alright, I’ll try. I make no oaths.” He nodded sceptically at first and slowly broke into a steady rhythm before rapid assurance. The hands that held yours glided down your arms you to cup your face and pull you in for a quick kiss. This time, his lips were softer and gone was the sandpaper sensation as they glided across yours. They moulded easily against yours and left a warm fire burning in the pit of your abdomen.
“I’ll take that as a sign of approval,” you breathed hopefully. “Now that everything is partially settled, I demand that I see you tonight at the old mill. You started something without finishing it Ser Beleg Cúthalion. We can argue during or after our rendezvous if your blood is stilling boiling,” you teased and pulled on the collar of his shirt under his armour. His squeaked at your abrupt action and stumbled further into you.
Awkwardly coughing, he grinned. “As you wish Your Highness. Consider this a celebration for our plan set in motion.”
Masterlist | Underrated Character Event Masterlist |
Request: Hi Mina! Hope you're having a lovely day today!!! Sending lots of hugs!!! If you're comfortable writing this I was hoping to possibly request some Beleg x reader! I was hoping for a fic where he takes care of reader who catches colds often and awkwardly asks him to help out! If this isn't comfortable or if you have too many requests already then I'm really sorry, I did look to see if you're requests are still open and what characters you're doing but I'm always just a little bit anxious that my stupid phone won't load the correct information... it's really old and I have the worst wifi in like all of Canada 😅 but first and foremost I want you to be comfortable and happy!!! And I just really like interacting with you! You're a lovely person with a beautiful mind and amazing ideas!!! Hugs!!! - @mcwentfandomtraveling
A/N: A little Beleg cures the soul and makes everything better. Enjoy!
Warnings: fluff, sick reader, vomiting, the whole shenanigans when ill, a surprise at the end
Word: 2.5k
Synopsis: When illness befalls during your anniversary with your beloved Marchwarden, you choose to avoid and evade him. However, he had plans to keep you at his side forever.
A violent sneeze shook your body and rattled your bones as you lay curled up in your small makeshift bed on the sofa. The groans signalled the quake your bones were experiencing from the roasting fever and vibrations from the endless shivers. Eyes teary, nose stuffed, sore throat, head pounding and nausea, you suffered the epitome of the flu on one of the worst days and weeks possible. It was your one-year anniversary with your beloved Beleg, and you were most pleased and excited to share a custom from your human traditions with him. He had no idea about celebrating anniversaries for courtships, so like you, he was ecstatic to celebrate a memorable milestone with you.
Crying out as tears flowed from your eyes at the pounding headache, you snuggled deeper into the blankets pile, hoping the softness would provide some relief. You felt the world spinning as the fire from within grew and the migraine increased. It didn’t matter what herbs or tea concoction you brewed; your pain wasn’t subsiding. The only thing you could do was to sleep it off and pray to whatever higher powers were responsible for healing to ease your discomfort, and you hope it would disappear today so you could meet with Beleg. It wasn’t every week the Chief Marchwarden got time off to return home and spend time with you— it was a blessing he got time off around your anniversary.
Shivering and shutting your eyes as the headache travelled from your temples to the forefront and settled in your sinus, you cried out, “Please, please, please, go away!” Your hands had risen to gently cup your head and rub your sinus while you chanted your mantra for it to disappear. “I ha-…have important things to do today…” you whined while slowly shifting in your spot to face the back of the couch. Over the past two days, you became a fruit bat and resented the light; you even threw up extra sheeting over the curtains to block out any that slipped through the cracks.
Though, your motion, no matter how gentle it was urged your headache to activate your nausea and prompted your stomach to churn. Forgetting that your head was thrashing and your body aching, you leapt off the sofa and bounded for the washroom. The horrid sounds of your stomach emptying echoed throughout the little hut you called home— it was home thanks to Beleg throwing it up for you upon your arrival and acceptance into Doriath. Your stomach heaved as you brought up all the contents you had consumed since the day started until there was nothing left and your throat became sore. You were vomiting air, coughing and choking at the same time with the inclusion of the nauseating headache searing. If only you could remove your brain and rest it down for the entire duration and not have to deal with the annoyance it brought.
“Dammit! Ah— would you just stop hurting for one minute?” you swore.
Silence fell when you ceased your last heave and shut the pail's lid. Squatting beside the bucket, your head drooped against the cupboard door in agony. The distance sound of the birds singing and squawking, folks passing in front of your house, metal clanging and wood being sawed sounded like an alarm blaring beside your head. Even the bothersome knocking against your front door followed by the call of your name sounded like it was near your ear. Wait, knocking? Your name? …Beleg!
His voice was muffled by the mahogany but still seeped through the cracks like sweet music to your ear. Immediately, your pain and worries slipped away, and warmth enveloped your body. Alternating your inelegant body through the house and fighting to arrive at the door in one piece, you fumbled with every structure for stability. Pulling the blankets around your frail body, terrified that when the door was opened, the chilliness of the air would send you into a frenzy. You were saying a solemn prayer from the washroom to the front door, “Dear whoever-is-in-charge-of-removing-this-flu-that-I’m-suffering, please do not let the wind knock me down.”
Arriving at the door at last, the final knock resounded before you coughed a calm down which caught the attention of your eager lover on the other side. Reaching for the knob, you cringed at the coldness before using all your strength to twist the knob and crack the door open just a few inches. Refusing to show your face, you spoke from the shadows, “…mae govannen meleth-nîn.”
You were met with silence on the other end. Beleg stood quietly as he analysed your voice, it wasn’t normal as far as he understood, and it wasn’t…right. Blinking a few times, he readjusted his posture and shuffled lightly on his feet before placing his right hand on the door and giving it a gentle push, calling out to you, “Meleth? Is everything alright with you? If something is wrong, you know you can inform me, I wouldn’t judge?” Attempting to apply more pressure against the door to widen and allow him to slip in, you shouted out at him to stop.
“Wait!” your throat burned at the exclamation, forcing you to cough before resuming, “I’m…I’m fine, just a little…” but you never finished your words as a sneeze snuck up and sent your body stumbling backwards, leaving the door unguarded for him to make entry.
Standing tall and vigilant, he scoped the room for any signs of threat while shutting the door without a hint that it was closed. Eyes falling on your mountain of blankets, loose rags on the floor and haphazardly thrown sheets over the curtain, he turned to glance at you in the furthest corner of the room holding your head. Unwell. Hanging his head with a shake, he removed his boots and placed the bouquet of carnations and lilacs on the table before strolling over to embrace your shaking figure. “Meleth,” he quietly chastised in his motherly tone, “why didn’t you tell me you were unwell?”
Unable to answer, you nuzzled into his chest and found comfort in his presence as the pain alleviated. All the slow creep in your sinus and temples were retracting and your aching bones were lighter. You had heard and experienced the wonders of elvish medicine before, but this was an entirely different form of treatment you were beyond fortunate to experience. Softly whining a series of unfathomable words, he still understood what you were attempting to project and did not hesitate to reach down and lift your body. Walking you over to your bedroom, he cautiously carried you as though you were a baby and delicately placed you onto the bed. With a quick fix and tidy, he adjusted your body to lay among a fortress of pillows and blankets.
Within half an hour of his arrival, Beleg tidied up your house and made a fresh batch of herbal tea and soup. Sitting on the edge of the bed with your body propped against the headboard, a spoon or flavoured water and vegetables were being held to your mouth. “I’m not hungry Beleg,” you croaked.
“Not buying it, your stomach is singing right now…and it’s not happy songs. Now open…say ah,” he counterreplies with a snicker.
Feeling like a child, it didn’t matter how much you fought against his command, you ended up obliging with a scoff and a roll of your eyes before opening your mouth. The moment the liquid touched your tongue it had no taste; your buds weren’t picking up any flavour at all. Rearing your head back to stare flabbergasted at your lover, your frowned, “Um…did you forget to add salt, or herbs to season the soup?”
“What do you mean? I added more than five different herbs including thyme and rosemary,” lifting the spoon to his mouth to sample, he nodded once the flavours hit his buds, “hmm, there’s flavour. Maybe your taste buds aren’t working right now…with the fever and all.” Still lifting the spoon with a fresh batch of soup and veggies, he brought it to your mouth for you to consume.
Making a face at the tasteless food, your appetite wasn’t kicking in the direction to consume anything, but the melody your stomach was playing took away your will to refuse. You were left to close your eyes and silently eat his hearty meal with much gusto. With every spoonful, you were hoping to taste at least a bit of salt to kickstart your taste buds, but all you did was devour bland food much to your disappointment. Though, as bland as it was, you still managed to sense the love and dedication behind the preparation of your meal. It was just like everything he did, with utmost care and affection. Perhaps you understood why his presence affected you to the extremities from the simplest action to the most ostentatious. Beleg was a simpleton elf, and yet everything he did in his power when it came to you was miraculous and extraordinary. This little moment shared between you both was a core memory for you, just seeing how engrossed he is with caring for your little mortal self, brought images of your future.
It was impossible to imagine an elf falling in love with you despite your mortal status and being an old, wrinkled potato one day. Here he was showing that it didn’t bother him, not even your runny nose or vomit would make him run for the hills. He had seen and faced worse than something natural as your illness. To him, this was a joy; showing you indirectly that he would care for you until your last.
“You know, I’m grateful for you,” you squeezed out before inhaling deeply, “I don’t know what it is about you and your…presence, but you make me happy after all these m-months. Just being here with me, not judging or being scornful…just loving me.” You gave him your best thousand-watt smile at the end of your confession, even though you felt a dry cough creeping up your oesophagus. The tears were already blurring your sight from the sentimental gesture.
Bowl in hand and spoon frozen midway, Beleg was astonished. Many words had been exchanged between you both over the many twelve months gone by, but this was new and beautiful. You were grateful for having him in your life, and those were the best words anyone could be told in their entire existence. His emotions were everywhere all at once, he didn’t know if he were to cry or jump and kiss the moon or run around Doriath like an insane person. “What…made you say so? Not that I’m displeased, but more curious. I’ve never heard you express…so openly,” he questioned calmly with a loving smile and a light chuckle. It tinkered through the air and blessed your ear, filling you with love in your heart.
“…this that’s happening right now. It just feels so different from every other moment we’ve shared,” you shrugged with a nonchalant laugh, “makes me realise that you don’t have a problem seeing me as some old, wrinkly potato one day.”
Raising a brow at your words, his eyes never left yours as he reached over to the nightstand and placed the bowl and spoon down before turning to give you his full, undivided attention, “Who said I wouldn’t see you as an old, wrinkly potato?” his finger lifted to bop your cold nose, “you’re my potato.” He joked knowing how much you always complained about getting old and becoming unattractive before his eyes. Growing saggy and helpless, needing to depend on others, he understood how much it bothered you through your humour, but never to him.
Rolling your sore and reddened eyes at his forever and ongoing reply, you watched as Beleg excused himself from your bedside with a ‘dawn of realisation’ look upon his face and left your room. He was silent as he departed, leaving nothing for your ears to discover as he picked up the bouquet of flowers and returned. Standing in your doorway with the red roses behind his back, you observed as he cleared his throat with a hint of nervousness in his eyes. For the first time, you saw Beleg’s figure shake and tremble. Taking a deep breath, he ushered to stand again before your bedside.
“I know that this may seem sudden in your culture but not to mine…and I couldn’t let an opportunity like this pass when the moment is perfect, so here we go… From the day I met you, not a day went by where I didn’t spend every hour, minute and second thinking about every little thing you do— it brought joy to my life. I knew you were the one for me and your race never once hindered me from loving you. If anything, it made me love you more and there is nothing you can do to change how I feel about you…even if you turn into an old, wrinkled potato, you are still engraved into my mind, heart and soul. So here I ask you, my love,” he shuffled one foot forward and knelt before you, revealing the roses and silver ring decorated with small vines, “will you marry me?”
Silence settled in the room where a pin dropping could be heard. Your calculated breathing was the only sound heard as you processed his words and question. “…Are you being serious?” you asked breathlessly.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Your smile slowly crept onto your face from one end to the other before covering your entire aura, creating a glow that came once in a lifetime. A light that represented unconditional joy, love and mutual support. He was typically sneaky when it came to impressing you with elvish traditions or culture on your dates, but this was the last act you envisioned he would whip out on a day like today, let alone while you were unwell.
Unable to contain the happiness of a thousand suns radiating from within, you ignored any aches your body produced and threw yourself into the arms of your patiently awaiting beloved. He caught you with ease but allowed himself to tumble back onto the floor for dramatic effect. Your voice chirped in his ear, screaming yes enthusiastically hundreds of times over and over again. Your shorter limbs were snaked around his body, holding him hostage to your physical affections of kisses and deadly hugs, but Beleg recognised no pain or discomfort. In fact, there was no longer pain and discomfort within your aching joints. His actions were enough to dissipate your illness.
“You have no idea how happy you’ve made me. My original plan was to propose by the waterfall, but you got sick, and I didn’t want the opportunity to be missed,” he chuckled before leaning down to plant kisses across your forehead, leading down to your lips.
“You are too sweet meleth,” you cooed as you leaned in to nuzzle his nose.
“As are you…bess,” he replied with a dazzling grin at the new title you would soon-to-be addressed as.
“Well, I hope you know I’m no longer feeling unwell. My body is no longer aching, so we can do something to celebrate,” you beamed as you pulled away from his lips and fought the urge to suppress a cough, but he saw right through it.
“Hmm, I agree, we should do something…like staying indoors and cuddling because you’re still unwell. Now back in bed sicky,” he commanded while he snatched your body in his arms, bridal style, and carried you back to bed.
