Hey queen! If the requests are still open, and if you feel up to it- I wouldn't mind a bigger look into female reader using Legolas's sensitive ears to her advantage if you know what I mean 😏😏😏 I live for soft Dom and switch Legolas (actually I live for him generally speaking but that's neither here nor there 🤭) I love you and your work so much!!! 💚💚💚
here's a gift 🎁
using legolas's sensitive elf ears to your advantage~
content warnings (MDNI): sexual content, v fingering, soft-dom!legolas -> switch!legolas, teasing
f!reader
A blanket of leaves shuffled beneath your back as you felt yourself shift with every motion from the elf prince above you. The dirt you could imagine yourself picking up from them was far from your mind, thankful that they were serving as a muffler for the lewd sounds that slipped off your tongue uncontrollably.
You attentively watched Legolas above you, eyeing his flushed, pale skin and blond locks growing sleek with sweat. His hand disappeared from your line of sight by hiding up your skirt and in the wet, delicate heat that lay between your legs, his arm muscles peaking out with each sinful curl of his fingers into your velvet walls.
"You shake so tenderly for me, Loss nin," Legolas meets your eyes with a glint behind them, glossed over and hungry. You felt your soul cower slightly at the look from him.
A simple hum is all you can muster in acknowledgment. A soothing chuckle escaped his mouth when you suddenly arched off the forest floor, chasing the pad of his thumb against your bundle of nerves while his fingers still worked you open.
"You gonna be good for me and take my cock?" he practically growled out whilst adding a harsh thrust, his fingers kissing your cervix. With a yelp and a jolt from his assault, you sprang your hand to his face just above you, securing a grounding grip on the roots of his blond hair to bring you back to reality slightly.
But in doing so, your wrist brushed against the slight point of the elf's ears, causing a moment of stumbling in his harsh pace with a flinch in his shoulders.
Worry overtook you. "Did I hurt you?" you asked with concern, your hand relieving his hair and soothing the spot. He shook his head and pulled his fingers from you, and you noticed a red tinge forming on the top of his cheekbones.
The elf was stricken shy, and you cocked your head at him. "No... Y/N. It's nothing, my sweet," he let out a big breath, like he had been holding it. "I lost my concentration."
His heart was pounding. That simple of a touch? Did it really affect him that much? Even he himself was surprised. Legolas shook his head slightly to remove the tingling dancing in his ear before placing his hand back on your core to ask permission.
But it did not last long, as your affections got the better of you, and with the trace of your hand down his face, your fingers met his pointed elf ear.
Like a switch was flicked, the moment you traced the sharpened shell, Legolas faltered. His hand wet with your arousal paused in you, and a sharp inhale filled his lungs.
"Y/N..." he groaned out as your index finger traced the cartilage, small circles sending electrical signals down his spine, straight to his cock straining painfully against his pants. He pushed against the caress of your hand, subtly begging for more, like a cat rubbing against its owner for more pets. His blue eyes threatened to meet the back of his skull from the pleasure.
A smirk made itself known on your lips. "Oh? What's this I've found?" you purred.
"Y/N~..." he whimpered, letting his head drop to your chest in defeat. "This isn't fair."
A flick to the sharp point of his ear from you elicited an abrupt gasp, and much to his surprise, a quick few forces of his hips against your thigh in a half-assed effort to gain some sort of friction on his length.
"What's happened to you Legolas? Me playing with your ear has you humping my leg like a pet?"
He could only answer in a whine, not wishing to meet your eyes out of sheer embarrassment. But he enjoyed your teasing, as bashful as he was.
Little scratches, massages, brushing the pads of your fingers against his skin caused the elf to see stars. "Please meleth nin... do... not stop."
He felt your chest shake under him in a silent laugh. "I don't intend to. I would like to know what other secrets you elves hide."
{LOTR Masterlist}Requests always open for drabbles / reactions / headcanons
Hope this is up to your standards my love @lady-legolas-greenleaf <3
can u do a legolas x reader where the reader has to learn elvish or common tongue bc its not their native language
ORRRR
can u do a diaval x reader headcanons?
thank uuuu if u ever see this! <3
Tysm for requesting!! My first on this new account! I love these two requests, so I've decided to do both! I hope you enjoy!
Lost in translation
Legolas x Reader (One Shot)
Word Count: 1.7k
Summary: For a while now, Legolas has been singing you off to sleep in Elvish, and it's about time you learned Sindarin and figured out what it was he was saying to you.
A/N: Sorry it took so long to publish this, turns out writing poetry is hard, and also don't trust me on the Sindarin translations, I used a random translator on Google LOL also the diaval headcanons will be posted soon, so stay posted :P
You wanted to slam your head into the wall. You haven’t been getting far in trying to teach yourself Elvish. You closed the Elvish language book and placed it into your book bag. Letting out a sigh, you straightened out your long, rumpled sleeves and began to walk out of the small library you were in. You were currently in Rivendell with Legolas, visiting Elrond, and you figured it would be the perfect opportunity to try and attempt learning Sindarin. You had been traveling together ever since the end of the fellowship and the defeat of Sauron. During that time, the two of you had grown close; as close as an elf and a mortal could be. You both definitely had a sort of unspoken thing going on.
Every day was a new adventure, running through vast green fields, climbing tall mountains, and trekking through rushing rivers. And every night the two of you spent lying next to each other on your bed rolls, staring up at the night sky and pointing out constellations and trading stories back and forth. However, right as you were falling asleep, you would always hear Legolas sing the same song:
“I aur minuial renia lendui, Mi lain gellad Anor glawar. Nathon dín, bronad lín lín, Le lostad mi ’ôl, úva faeg.
Lúg lín darthar sui rhaw peled, Ú-dirn lín a gannel linnad. Cuil lín, gwanas sídh a thand, Linnath dín na nathon pendui.
Nathon tegi i línath na dhû lín, Il-lain sui i nór naurui. Ú-darathon edro ammen aníron, Meleth darthar, darthar ú-bediad.
No aníron edregol lothar i aur, Dan sî na i aníron gwennad lín. An mi dîn hen, mi dîn lín lín, Nathon edregol lín lostad a suilad galu.
O i cuilath ú-dangen lín, O i meleth ú-antannen lín. Losto sídh, meleth nîn, naithad lín anann, Nathon sî. Nathon anann.”
You’ve heard him sing it so much you’ve just about had it memorized and written down. So here you were, lost deep in thought, looking down at the beat-up piece of paper with his words written down, thinking about how you could get better at Elvish. You stop your pacing and raise your eyes up to take in the amazing view. Rivendell was ethereal; you wouldn’t mind staying here another week or two.
Maybe…you could get an elf to teach you. But not Legolas, that's too obvious. Maybe Elrond? No, he's too busy at the moment, plus you were too embarrassed to repeat the words Legolas would whisper to you at night when you two were alone in an attempt to have them translated. You had a feeling it was too intimate, but Arwen would understand she could help! Wait…no, she can’t. She's in Gondor with Aragorn, and you don't think one of the random guards patrolling the gardens you're currently in would be willing to drop everything and teach a human stranger Elvish. New idea, you ask Legolas to teach you Sindarin to better integrate in Elven society and communicate better with other elves for times like this when you find yourselves staying in Elven territories. This was a good cover, and so you began walking to where Legolas was staying.
Arriving in front of the door to his chambers, your heart began to race. Slowly, you raised your arm to hover in front of his door. It stayed there for a few seconds before lightly knocking on the door. Almost as if he was standing behind the door this entire time waiting for you to knock, he opened the door immediately. “(y/n)! I was just on my way to go find you,” he said, smiling at you. “Well, it looks like I found you first,” you let out a small laugh before continuing. “I wanted to ask you something actually, that's why I’m here,” you said, looking down at your book bag as you reached in, pulling out the Elvish language book. Legolas smiled, recognizing the writing on the spine of the book. “I was wondering if you could perhaps teach me some basic Sindarin, y’know, so that I can better talk with some of the other elves here. I feel like I'm missing out on a lot by only understanding common,” you said, hopefully, convincing enough that there were no other motives behind your words. He smiled and took the book from your hands. “You might have had better success at learning it yourself if you hadn’t picked up the advanced book, but nevertheless, I’m glad you came to me. I’d love to teach you.” Once again, you wanted to slam your head into a wall.
With Legolas teaching you now, progress was finally being made. Ironically enough, starting off with the advanced book actually set you up to pick up the words and grammar faster. “Now, how would you go about asking me the weather outside?” Legolas asked you. “Uhhhh…” you massaged your forehead,
“Goheno nin, hîr, no cerich henias man sui i ’waew na bevin?” (Excuse me sir, would you happen to know what the weather is like outside?)
“That's very good, a bit formal, but you're doing well,” Legolas reached over the table and patted you on the shoulder. You felt yourself lean into his touch. Oh you were whipped for him. So far, you’ve made good progress on translating the songs?..poems?? Whatever he's been singing to you at night as you drifted off. You mainly managed to do so by slipping in the harder words you’ve yet to understand, and have him explain the meaning.
You lifted the right end of the book, where your piece of paper that has Legolas’ song transcribed lay under, and wrote in the new piece of translated information. In the corner of your eye, you see Legolas peering over, trying to see what you’re writing down. You quickly place the end of the book down, covering the paper, and you turn back to face him. “What are you hiding (y/n)?” He smiles and leans in closer to your face. You feel your face heat up, and you back up a bit. “I’m just taking notes on what I’ve learned so far!” You smile awkwardly at him. “Hmm…why don't we end it for today? We’ve been working all day, and you’re looking a bit tired. We can pick it back up tomorrow.” He said as he stood up from his chair and petted the back of your head. You nodded, and you watched him leave your room. Waiting until he closed the door, you pulled out your piece of paper from under your book and went back to working hard to transcribe his words.
Before you knew it, it was dark out, and your eyelids were feeling heavy. You laid your head on the book and thought about Legolas and your time together. You had fallen in love with him, and hard. You were tired of the unspoken thing between the two of you. You wanted answers. Was he this close and tender with all his friends? You hoped that for your sake, the answer was no. Letting out a sigh, you closed your eyes and let yourself rest on top of the book.
Not knowing how much time has passed, you hear the door open and a familiar voice speak. “(y/n)?...Oh,” It was Legolas, but for whatever reason, you didn’t open your eyes to meet his, thinking it's better to feign being asleep. Legolas walks over to you, places the small bowl of fruit he brought for you down on the table, and begins to pet your hair. Quietly, like all times before, he begins to sing to you,
“I aur minuial renia lendui, Mi lain gellad Anor glawar. Nathon dín, bronad lín lín, Le lostad mi ’ôl, úva faeg.
Lúg lín darthar sui rhaw peled, Ú-dirn lín a gannel linnad. Cuil lín, gwanas sídh a thand, Linnath dín na nathon pendui.
Nathon tegi i línath na dhû lín, Il-lain sui i nór naurui. Ú-darathon edro ammen aníron-”
“Meleth darthar, darthar ú-bediad, love waits, and waits without a plea…did I get it right?” You speak, eyes still closed, interrupting him mid-song. He finally noticed the writing next to your head and recognized it as the words to his song, partially transcribed into common. “Perhaps I'm too good of a teacher, is that why you asked me to help you learn Sindarn?” Legolas smiled down at you. Opening your eyes, you raised your head up from the book and rubbed your eyes awake. “I just…I needed to know what you were saying. You sing the words with such sweet tenderness, I needed to understand what it was you were saying to me. I needed to know how you felt about me,” you said quietly, averting your gaze. Legolas walks around you to pick up the piece of paper. His eyebrows raise, impressed with how much you've managed to translate so far. “You still have some lines left to translate, would you like me to tell you the rest?” he says, looking down at you, smiling. You smile back at him and nod your head. He comes down to kneel on one knee. “Then I shall start from the beginning,”
“The morning tiptoes soft and slow,
With golden threads of sunlit glow.
But I stay still, and hold my breath,
You lie in dreams, untouched by death.
Your lashes rest like painted wings,
Unmoved by dawn or birds that sing.
Your chest, a rhythm calm and true,
A quiet song I sway into.
I trace the lines upon your face,
Each one a map, a sacred place.
I dare not wake you with my need
Love waits, and waits without a plea.
The day can bloom, the world can spin,
But here’s where all my truths begin.
For in this hush, this tender hush,
I watch you sleep, and feel the rush
Of all the lives we’ve yet to live,
Of all the love I’ve yet to give.
So sleep, my love, and dream your fill
I’ll be right here. I always will.” As he's finishing the last stanza, his hand comes to caress your cheek. “Gin melon”(I love you), he says before leaning into to place a kiss on your lips. “I love you too,” you reply, smiling from ear to ear.
the war had taken a toll on you and you wished for yourself to be in the arms of a close companion, someone you had longed to hold for a very long time. fate seems to surprise you when you see him again.
pairing : legolas greenleaf x gn!reader / word count : 4.7k words
genre / tags : friends to lovers, romance, angst, hurt/comfort, confessions, reader is part of the fellowship, set years after return of the king, human!reader, aragorn & reader very close/platonic interaction
warnings : not proofread. names for the reader (wanderer, my liege, meleth nin), kissing, singing-ish, reader doesn’t understand sindarin, reader is traumatized because of the war on the ring + other implied backstory, questions/talks of : ( time, aging, and death, the war, fighting, scars, wounds, passing away, and burial ), mix of book/film legolas. viewer discretion advised.
mellow's notes : this is in some way related to my other legolas fic patience but can stand on its own.
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★・ now playing : like real people do by hozier
The air sways like the quiet whistle of a carved wooden bird, singing a harmonious and tender tune. It was the kind of soothing music that still takes its time to settle onto you. You had a difficult time settling into the quiet of the forest, even if it was usually a calm sound that the forest carried when you travelled as a Wanderer, you could still remember the death that rotted it.
It somehow felt more uncommon to see these trees alive, as you try to move away from all the burdens that you had tried to carry on by walking further and further away from the forest and into the bustling noise.
The capital city of Gondor was just nearby, yet you felt your heart asking for rest, not from the walk, from everything that had happened, and your only response was to still keep going; the War had already ended, and yet you kept going.
You hold on to the hilt of your sword, which rests in its scabbard. You begin to hum, something to soothe your ragged heart.
Years had passed since the War of the Ring, and the wounds of terror had begun to heal as soil became richer and water became clearer. It is evident now that, as people try to restore the places they used to call home, they try to continue living.
You still felt like you needed to breathe.
Each step became lighter as you were moved forward, which then made you take another; as you began to step on stones that shine like pearls, you realized where you finally were. Minas Tirith, the city you have come to frequent for the current moment of your time after the war. You remember it clearly when humanity won the creeping darkness that came from the depths of Mordor; those years of constant waiting, and the ruin it had gained. It was slow, but time moves.
You can see it in the people; they seemed more merry as they walked along. You remember how quietly the people used to move. The uncertainty and the hopelessness of a King that could never have existed.
Each person, one by one, slowly look up to the moving character, as the people see you enter their home quietly; they knew of you, but they knew not to bother you—you weren’t really a fan of the larger crowds, it was less of a hazard than before, still, you weren’t fond of the strangers that followed, as you don’t look at the people who started. Continuing on foot, moving closer to the castle grounds.
You had nothing to boast to these people; you wanted to visit simply because. You tried to smile at the younger people who had seemingly recognized you from afar, but they immediately didn’t bother with what’s right as they followed you. Parents hold their kids close to them so they would not follow you, but most didn’t bother, letting them follow you even beyond their line of vision.
You wonder what kinds of stories their parents tell them. Did they talk about a young hero who was part of the fellowship? Or, did they talk about how you appeared in Middle-earth, like some sort of ghost that had recently gained their humanity? You think about the strangers of people who seemed to be fascinated as to where you came from, and you tell them you don’t remember either, letting them run their imaginations amok.
It wasn’t fun listening to people learn about where you had come from. You didn’t want to remember where you belonged; it didn’t matter if you couldn’t control the way they spoke to you like a person who never existed. It still wasn’t right to talk to someone like that; it was never fun.
A young boy tugs the hem of your blouse, distracting you from your thoughts and even promptly halting the quiet walk of trying to ignore the people. As he extends his whispers to you, it is quiet and light. “Wanderer, that is what the people call you?”
Innocence, you thought to yourself. But you weren’t sure if this would lead to more questions being asked. But still, curiosity, it was something you longed for, how you used to be. Nodding at the young boy, you crouch down to look at him at his level, “I’m certain that the King has told you about my true name?”
That made him smile, “Yes, but I believe Wanderer is a much better name than what the King calls you.”
Now you were the next one to smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. Remembering the reasons you kept your self-proclaimed title of Wanderer, you remember how proud you were of the name. “It is a name that I also adore, but I believe my days as a Wanderer have ended.”
“Why? Don’t you want to continue to travel?” The young boy asks, and there is a feeling of disappointment that was left when he said it.
You look at him, you wanted to tell him the exhaustion it had held, and how you still wanted to travel without worry, to let yourself drift without the weight of something that even you don’t know, pulling you further down.
You feel your eyes gaze to the side and away from the young boy as you see a stranger in a coat of armor approaching you. Ringing bells in your head, it could be something dangerous as you feel your arms move to shield the young boy when you hear your name being called.
“Wanderer.” The guard repeated, this time calling you by your title.
“What do you want?” You spat unintentionally, harsh and abrasive.
For whatever you had in your heart to protect something stronger than reason, it didn’t matter if the people looked at you strangely. How could they not see the potential threat?
“The King asks for your presence.” That was all the Guard said. Standing tall, he waited for you to get up, looking down at you, not in a mocking manner. At least you hope it wasn’t.
You stare at him, confused, “What...?”
Kneeling, the guard removes his headgear, revealing an older man whose face looks kinder behind the sharp exterior of the Gondorian armor. “My liege, the King wishes to see an old friend.”
Pity, there was pity in his face.
You let go of the young boy, and you look at him for a moment, smiling quietly. But the boy didn’t smile back; instead, a look of worry was present on his face.
“Are you alright?” The young boy asked you before a hand swiftly grabbed you, taking you to the steps of the white fortress.
You couldn’t forget the look on the young boy’s face as you followed the Gondorian guard.
The King of Gondor, and your close friend, Aragorn, as much as he has now become much busier in his duties as a King, he always finds just enough time to spend one morning with a companion. Of course, that lucky companion would be you.
“My liege. Welcome to Minas Tirith.” Aragorn said, he placed his hand on his chest before bowing slightly. It was a greeting that you were only familiar with because of Aragorn.
Behind him were the courtiers who greeted you; knowing it was time, the courtiers whispered to the King, and you wondered as to what it could be before they quietly left the halls, leaving the two of you alone in the warm morning.
Aragorn quickly gives you a tight embrace; even in his age, there is still a sense of power that overwhelms you. Maybe it was the status of a high king, embracing a lowly Wanderer.
“Do you wish to walk to visit the gardens?” Aragorn asked, “We have a lot of catching up to do.”
“That would be nice, though I do not know where that would be.”
“You’ll find it to be everywhere where you need it to be.” Aragorn finishes before walking towards you. Patiently, he lets you take the lead for once.
The walk was easy; it reminded you of how leaves take their time to let go of the branch. You notice the surprise greenery that appeared throughout different halls that you had yet to explore. You find yourself stopping, one specific hall caught your line of sight, and your steps become slowed.
The fountain was grand, it was like the adventures that you had gone to, where you would visit the waters. Clear and with no signs of grime on the water. It looked too beautiful to ignore.
Aragorn notices the way you linger just a little longer to look at the fountain that flowed beautifully, as if this is the first fountain you’d ever seen. “My friend,” Aragorn said, “Is there something on your mind?” And then a question.
There was a lot on your mind, from the nightmares that seemed to jolt you awake every time, even when things had been peaceful, to the forest when he had left to travel.
Why now did he appear in the back of your mind was even out of your control. You haven’t seen Legolas in a very long time, nor has he seen you either; the only form of communication that you two had begun to do was writing letters.
The letters that he had written to you, talking about his current adventures with one of your friends, Gimli, and how he had wished that you could have joined him in restoring Middle-earth; they were one of the things that had brought you a bit of joy every time you had awakened.
“Many that are difficult to describe. Exhaustion, how I almost insulted one of your guards,” you tell him, moving just a little closer as you feel the warmth of the sun hit your face, “I’ve told you about most. I believe that you might have grown tired of them already.”
“Nonsense.”
Aragorn remembers the stories you told, and the excitement you had when the journey began, which reminded him much of the young Hobbit, Pippin. Aragorn notes that your stories were usually full of love and uncertainty. Aragorn knew that there was something in your heart, one that longed for more than peace. Wishing to return to the day things felt right to you. Aragorn learned of your latest writing, how you wished to return to going on adventures without feeling lost through it.
“I had heard from many that you are visiting Mirkwood in a few days?” As light passed through the halls of his kingdom, warmth didn't pass on to Aragorn’s tired face; there was a sense of worry. Aragorn knew that there were still things that needed to be worked with in the forest of Mirkwood. And, although it was not his home that he had worried about, you are his friend.
“How did you know?” You look at him, confused; it was not something that had been talked about while you two walked around in the gardens.
“You loved to talk about the beauty in their realm.” Aragorn smiles, he knew that Legolas would keep you safe if he learnt about it.
You don’t notice the way he mumbles to himself in Sindarin, you quietly think to yourself that you should have studied the language when you had the time.
“I trust that our friend Legolas is escorting you to the Mirkwood forest?” Aragorn stops in his tracks, noticing a flower that had been cut off accidentally. “If Legolas were to learn of your visit, he would be very elated.”
“He will be visiting the glittering caves with our friend, Gimli!” You say as if it is a fact. Picking up the flower, you pass it on to Aragorn and smile when he quietly plays with its petals.
“I see, then I suppose you are alright with travelling by yourself?”
“You never trust me, do you, Aragorn? First, my skills in protecting my companions, and now this? You’re unbelievable.” You cross your arms before letting out a huff, looking away at the King of Gondor, who looks at you with slight confusion.
There wasn’t a bone of hatred in your blood, and as you look at Aragorn, he sheepishly looks back at you. You both let out a laugh.
It was a good laugh too, one that you haven’t had in a long while. Looking at the sunlight that was finally at its peak, you look at Aragorn. There was still a ragged heart that beat. You choose to ignore it.
“When are you going to continue with your duties?” you ask Aragorn.
“In a few.” Aragorn steps forward, taking the lead. “I’ll have someone escort you around the castle; you may walk freely before you leave.”
“Before I leave? The fortress is too big for me to leave tonight.” Smiling, you quickly follow Aragorn. Feeling a small sense of nostalgia, it reminded you much of your journey with him, but there was now less of a deadline to race to.
“Then you can walk around tomorrow,” Aragorn says, placing a hand on your back.
“Just like old times?” A hint of uncertainty was placed in the tone of your voice. You notice how Aragorn looks up at the distance ahead, it seems a lot was running through the mind of the King.
Truly, it did remind Aragorn much of the walks the two of you had together, “Might as well. My lover and our child believe it to be a good bonding time; they quite enjoy your company.”
“I do as well.”
It had been days before you found yourself back in the wide, lush forest. It had its moments of beauty; the ground you stepped on moved slowly, awake and full. You look at the roots that trailed on the surface, looking beautiful as ever. Flowers had already bloomed, and you noticed that one had already fallen.
It reminded you of the leaves beginning to fall, and as you picked up the flower, you began to ponder. Humans were such fragile beings, you thought to yourself. They were like leaves on the trees that fell on the palm of your hand, except that trees lived long enough to heal their wounds. Humans would pass before they could even let themselves heal.
It was a thought that you grimaced.
“Mirkwood,” you mumble to yourself, trying to move away from the certain dread that continues to pull you down, “Are you still the peaceful land that was once held by the green lush that he had adored?” He, the one you spoke of, was the light-haired friend who seemed to continue to linger on your mind.
You begin to hum a story; one where Legolas has held you, beyond the onlooking terror of the orcs, you could still feel it in the weight of his hand. It felt normal, even beyond the cold winds blowing against your skin. And as he had let go of your hand, you felt the winds shift; the arrow blowing as the elf shot down the orc precisely, and when you turned around, you noticed the twitching body of the fiend.
You didn’t know how to describe Legolas in your song; he felt impossible to describe. The sway of your body as you make a whirl. From a hug, a stare, you imagine yourself in Legolas’ embrace. Feeling secure in the strength of his arms, he made rest calm even in the loud song of celebration behind the tents.
In the quiet and mournful night, where the moon soared high, he let himself become your only source of light even in the darkness. By the fire where exhaustion hit you, you remember lying your head on the lap of the elf, telling him that it was only going to be a moment before you would get off of him.
Not knowing it, you would awaken by the shake of Gimli’s hand, in which he had told you you had slept for quite a long time, laughing at Legolas’ predicament. Looking up at the elf, Legolas simply smiled at you, as if it wasn’t a bit of a bother. The way he tilted his head when he did so, you hum about the moment, even through the embarrassment.
You tried to remember Legolas and the way he looked; it made you think of the light colored hair of the elf, and fondly you think of the moments you had with it, the careful braiding, mumbling against his ear as you complimented how smooth he takes care of it.
Remembering the slight twinge in his ears, perhaps because of how close you were, he quietly talked about the flowers that were adorned on his hair. Their history and their symbolism, not knowing what the one that Legolas placed on your hair, you let your body lean behind him, a whisper as to what your flower symbolized.
Legolas laughed, and you felt the occasional movement against your back when he did so. He told you that he would tell you when the right moment comes, as he mumbles the meaning in a language you couldn’t decipher.
Legolas was everything you could ever imagine for a close companion; kissing the flower on your hand, you danced. You wish to be in his arms once more. The night would be brighter and mornings sweeter when you danced with him.
"I knew I would find you here!" His voice yelled out for you, and it felt real.
You can hear the horse grunt over the distance as it becomes clearer. Within the depths of your heart, there was a rush and warmth that seemed to spread through your ribs.
You stopped singing.
As you turn to look at the closing distance of a trotting horse moving towards you, Legolas rides along, his hand holding onto the sash with a relaxed grip, trusting his steed that it would not run away from him. Those familiar blue eyes that looked at you with comforting fondness.
"Legolas? How, what..?" you mutter to yourself, realizing the strength of an elf’s ability to listen, you note that Legolas had probably heard your mumbling.
“Mellon nin; Wanderer, it has been years,” Legolas says, letting his horse come to a halt as he drops himself off. Legolas whispers to his horse, assuming it is in the language you cannot understand, as the horse trots away.
“What about your venture to the forests? The letters that you sent told me you weren’t to return until a year?”
“Gimli is to visit his homeland,” Legolas says, crossing his arms as he walks forward to where you stood still, “And I wanted to see you again.”
Legolas notices the way you stood; it had been long since he had last seen you. You have grown older, and there was a slight wrinkle every time you grinned; your eyes, however, looked a little more exhausted. Lack of proper rest, he thought to himself, and he felt worried at the thought that you might not be getting enough sleep.
“Let us walk? I know that you are fond of walking.” Legolas says as he extends his hand to you.
"We are almost there..." Legolas said quietly, his hand intertwined with yours, with a sense of familiarity, as if the memory of holding your hand had happened a few weeks ago, when really, it had been years.
You didn't know where you two were going, and Legolas was mostly the one leading the way. Mud streaks your boots, as the ground was still damp from midnight's rainfall.
"I could have brought my own horse Legolas," you say, but you weren’t really complaining. If walking a fair distance meant just a quiet moment with the man you hadn’t seen in years, you would take it in a heartbeat. Reminding you of moments with him back when you had little time for repose.
“I know, but it reminds me much of how we spent our days with the Fellowship.”
Legolas seems to know how to read minds now.
The walk was calm, you followed familiar and at the same time, unfamiliar roads along with Legolas, who seemed not to look behind you and was adamant on walking forward to the destination.
“Do you remember this forest?” Legolas asks you, squeezing your hand as he does so, an acknowledgment or jog in the memory.
“We’ve seen a lot of forests, Legolas. What you're asking could be one of many.”
“The first time we had ever met.” He hinted, “I remember you hugging someone.”
“I was protecting a young child who was right in front of an orc,” you quietly correct him with a smile on your face. “I didn’t know that it was you who saved me. No wonder you looked familiar.”
“They were getting closer to you when I found you, yet you didn’t look afraid,” Legolas said, “I was fascinated with your bravery.”
You didn’t know how to respond to such a compliment. Legolas had complimented you during the journey for your strength, yet, hearing him close to you as he spoke praise in your valor. You felt the slight flush on your cheeks, not including the praise.
It felt nice.
Looking at the distance right in front of you, you can see a large tree, large as a willow, though its leaves resembled more of a maple. It seems the wind pulls you closer to the elf, who hums an old melody from his home.
“Are you afraid of something then?” Legolas asked, letting go of your hand, he takes a few steps back, “Is it death?”
Did you fear death? As you stood in front of the tree, it seemed to look down on you, though there was nothing that brought fear onto you, even in its large size. You think about the things that you have truly feared.
Being forgotten, without a burial, or a memory of what you were like before you had passed, your casket, in which your name has been carved out, will soon smooth out with the years to come.
That was something you feared. At least, you believed it to be. You didn’t know if there was something that you were afraid of.
“I am afraid of being forgotten,” you mumbled, yet even the thought of being forgotten wasn’t scary enough. It felt as if there was something else that you didn’t know of.
Legolas looked at you. He was quiet and impossible to decipher; thinking about the time you had met him, you remembered how difficult it was to understand him. But even with those difficulties, you couldn’t help but fall in love somehow. Not through the mystery behind his eyes or even the songs he sang as a lullaby for you to sleep to, but simply because he was simple even through everything.
You remember how you described Legolas as an endless river. You thought of yourself as someone who would follow a trail of a river, no matter how long and arduous that trail would take you; you were determined to find the mouth of the river.
Those that reminded you of rivers filled your curiosity. You wondered where the river of his would end. Legolas had a history that you still don’t know of, for what was he like before he had met you?
“Legolas.”
“Yes?” Legolas' gaze softens, and carefully, you see that he places his hands behind him.
“I…”
“Tell me,” Legolas tilts his head, and you could see him smile slightly, “I can wait.”
You wanted to know what he was thinking. Why did he smile at you, even when you couldn’t ask a question? You look at his eyes, similar that of the river that you loved.
Silence fills the two of you. You hear the humming of the birds and see him, you know how much he loved to take in with his scenery, telling much about how he loved the world that surrounded him. But he doesn’t look anywhere but you. Legolas focused his being onto yours,
Wind blows past the bare parts of your skin, the blonde of his hair tickles against your cheeks, and now you have realized the space between the two of you has simply disappeared. You were seeing him move, closer and closer, and you looked at his eyes, unchanging, but still, it felt as if it was holding back something that you couldn’t describe. The light of his hand almost misses yours; he holds your hand.
“Can I kiss you?” You ask him.
“Please.”
You give Legolas an unhurried and gentle kiss, lips brushing against the hollow of his cheeks. The smell of wood and pine fills the air you breathe, and you attempt to pull him closer to you. Your fingertips graze against his knuckles, a careful tug on his hand so as not to let him stray further away.
Legolas doesn’t move any further, as if it is a signal for you to continue—patiently and earnestly, he lets you have him. A song that can never be forgotten, not even when you pass.
You look at him. Your hands instinctively move to hold his face—it was soft, and Legolas leans in against your touch immediately. How time has never affected him, even now, he still looks the way he did when you first met him.
“Gi Melin,” Legolas muttered, leaning against your ear as he whispers to you, “No matter where you are, my heart will follow, I will love, and I will always remember.”
"You love me…?" You mumble, being pulled further and further, as you try to release your hand from his face when he slowly presses his hands closer against yours, letting his skin feel yours. Different and changing, he lets his fingertips graze against your rough scars that couldn’t be repaired.
“Legolas, please stop this.” This is what you were afraid of, “I am nothing but a fickle life, Legolas, please.”
“But I want to,” Legolas's brow furrows, shaking away the thought in your head by leaning close to you, “I loved you like embers that glowed when we talked by the fireplace. Was I mistaken?”
“No Legolas, I love you.” You look at him, feeling a tight knot in your throat, “But, I am afraid of the fact that I can’t live a life knowing that you love me. Legolas, you will grow past my lifetime. I don’t want to put you through this. I don’t want you to love me like this—”
“I care not for who you are, or who you once were. The time that you will spend with me will be very little for the time of an elf.” Legolas interrupts, “I cannot become mortal, to love the same way Lady Arwen loves our King Aragorn.” Legolas gazes at you with glassy eyes, as tears begin to fall, unbeknownst to him.
“But please, meleth nín, even in this moment with you will be enough for me to never forget.” Meleth nín. My love. The love that began to beat in his chest; it was a phrase that he never uses, as he lets himself lean in to melt into your kiss. He feels the way you move closer to feel the softness of your lips as you let your hands hold onto him. Legolas hears you mumble in between the kisses—you ask him to never let go.
Legolas kisses you, feeling you pull away as you look at him with those eyes that never changed when he first saw you by these same paths—he wants to kiss you again. He hugs you instead.
It didn’t matter to him that you were someone who couldn’t have a fixed history. Perhaps you let it burn somewhere, away from the world, even where he couldn’t see, and it wouldn’t matter to him. No matter the years that will pass, when you are no longer living in this world. If the world did realize the truth of who you really were, he would still love you.
Legolas would bury you and let you be adorned with the flowers that he had placed on your hair all those years ago. In a language you can’t decipher, he will give you flowers that show the feelings that he had concealed ever since he saw you protecting that young child.
I will always love you. I will never forget you.
He will love. Yes, he will love you forevermore.
NOTES : man,,,i don't know how to feel about this fic because this is the second legolas fic that i had ever written and i think i rushed it,,but please let me know what you guys think! reblogging and commenting about it is much appreciated!
imagining reader in the fellowship that is super clumsy but self confident, Legolas constantly saving their ass in battle but discreetly so they think they’re getting the kills. and he’s trying so hard to keep them safe and they’re really having the time of their life but are genuinely so bad at fighting and don’t know it.
Imagine being a shapeshifter, and Legolas finding out.
Legolas only knew you as the human, though his eyes did always seem to pick up something in your gaze, in your movements. In your very smell. Something different, hidden beneath the surface. But he didn’t have the faintest clue of what.
It was two days before the full moon, something only Legolas seemed to notice since the others only cared about the light that came from it rather than it’s fullness, when he caught you attempting to sneak away. When you called him out on it, you barely responded, just shooting him a glare and then continuing back with the group. He vowed then to keep an eye on you. It was suspicious behaviour, to say the least.
He stopped you three times over the course of the night, and you gave no reason as to why you were trying to leave. Finally, when even he needed to rest, you had disappeared, deep into the night.
Gandalf had merely said that you would be along to join them later. Nothing more. But Legolas - he couldn’t just accept that as an answer.
There was a rustling in the sky during the night of the full moon.
Everyone else was asleep and yet, Legolas did not feel alone in his wakefulness. Something inside of his brain, like a second outside voice, was telling him to get up, to go for a walk, not far, but far enough.
And what greeted him was something that his eyes had not seen in a great many years. A dragon. It was playing in a lake that it was almost too small for. Acting more like a puppy than a dragon. Even rolling around on the adjoining meadow to rub their scent over everything.
Definitely not dragon behaviour.
He watched with intrigue until he caught sight of something that caused him to tense. The movement was enough to draw your eye - which was exactly what he had been looking at. For those eyes -
that color? It was undeniably yours.
Your large nostrils moved closer to the intrusion upon your private midnight escapades, and gave a large sniff. Something inside of that brain of yours seemed to recognize Legolas, and didn’t blow out the slightest bit of smoke or steam at him. Being bold - as Legolas often was - he followed after you, and took the opportunity to climb up one of the trees quickly, almost as if he had run up it instead of ascending the branches, and -
Pop -
Landed on your back.
You could feel the weight, but you could also still smell who it was, someone calming, someone pleasing. Elves were friends of the forest, and were you not a creature who dwelt in one during these full moons? It made sense that it was easy for him to tame you, to get you to fall under his comfortable spell, and for you to trust him enough to ride you through the skies on a little venture, before landing on the ground just before your transformation back.
Not a word was spoken about it. But something new, something stronger than any metal, had been forged.
You sat next to Legolas on Elvens' supper (it was a mistake)
Legolas Greenleaf
The golden hues of the setting sun poured through the grand arched windows of Thranduil’s castle, casting a warm glow over the elegantly decorated hall.
Flanked by towering pillars and adorned with shimmering fabrics, the atmosphere pulsed with the quiet laughter and gentle music of elven life.
As you entered the hall, you marveled at the beauty of the exquisite feast laid out before you. The scent of roasted meats and fragrant fruits wafted through the air, creating a tantalizing allure that was hard to resist.
Finding your place at the long, serpentine table, you felt a twinge of excitement and apprehension. You had been invited to this elven supper—a rare honor for a human—and the knowledge that you would be sharing a table with some of the most enchanting beings in Middle-earth only heightened your nervousness.
You glanced around. Elves laughed and talked, their voices like music, but you felt small and out of place amidst such beauty.
To your surprise, you found yourself sitting next to Legolas, Son of Thranduil.
After some time, their fruity wine started to hit. You turned to Legolas- he was watching you the whole night-
His white hair shimmered like spun sunlight, and his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. You had heard tales of his skill and bravery, but in this moment, he was simply beside you—tall, beautiful, and impossibly charming. Something about him was drawing you in, his pale skin, his long fingers splitting fruit in no time, sweet juice dripping down his thumb.
You hate to admit but your thoughts were wild. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the way his eyes looked at you- so hungrily, but you started to imagine how his fingers would feel all over your body.
Suddenly he leaned to you, his strong masculine scent filling your senses.
“Ah, a human amongst the elves,”
He whispered lightly, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he glanced at you, his voice smooth and melodic.
“Does the magic of the night overwhelm you? I promise, we bite only in jest.”
A blush crept onto your cheeks at his words. You shifted in your seat, stealing a glance at the ornate platter full of sweet pastries.
“It’s beautiful here. I just think your wine is a bit strong.”
You managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.
Legolas chuckled softly, leaning in a fraction closer, the fragrance of leaves and the earth lingering around him.
“I doubt that's wine, dear. Don't think I didn't notice how hungrily you look at me..”
He said, his tone both teasing and sincere.
“Surely you must know that by now.”
You felt the heat rise to your face as his slender fingers found a way to your soft thigh, gently stroking you. It was at once flattering and mortifying, and you wrapped your hands tightly around your cup of sweet elven wine, focusing on the intricate patterns carved into its surface.
“I-I don't think I understand-”
You stammered, your heart beating faster.
Legolas arched an eyebrow, his expression incredulous yet playful.
“Come on, don't do that to me. I see how you watch my hands.”
He leaned back slightly, the teasing glint in his eyes never wavering.
“I know what you're thinking dear. Tell me, I want to hear it. Are you thinking of me? Are you thinking of my long fingers in your dripping hole, hm? Tell me, baby.”
The right words eluded you, and you looked down, the vibrant color of the goblet reflecting in your eyes.
“Legolas...I..”
You managed to mumble.
A melodic laugh escaped Legolas’s lips, filling the space between you with warmth.
“Shhhh let me give you something to think about.”
He said as he leaned closer, his sweet words and warm breath tickling your neck.
You dared to peek at him, and his expression was earnest yet mischievous.
"Imagine me, slowly dipping in your juices, moving my fingers gently, curling them in you. I bet you would be full, hm? Filled to the brim, darling. Would you want that?"
Your breath was caught in your throat, his hands still gently squeezing your thighs.
"I would use my tongue on you, lap and lick, tasting your sweetness. My, my, wouldn't stop until your legs are all shaky. I know how to pleasure, baby."
Your chest was heaving and you could feel pure desire pool in your stomach. It's impossible you're discussing this with Elven kings' son.
"Legolas please.."
You pleaded, your eyes finding his, full of lust.
"Shhh no need to plead, dear. Let me give it to you, hm? Let me show you how a real man loves..how a real man fucks."
His hand gently moved closer to your underwear. You could feel his warm thumb ghost over the hem of your panties, his blue eyes half lidded.
“And why not join me in some adventure? Why not come with me? You won't regret it baby, let me fill you so good.”
He suggested, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. Your heart raced at the thought of a personal adventure with him beneath the stars.
All you could manage was a small nod, catching his hand to lead you away. His body was radiating heat.
As the night wore on, you found yourself lost in the woods, stepping into your own light, following Legolas. You watched his broad back, moving behind his slender figure. You knew, when you find the spot this man won't leave your side. Your cheeks were as red as strawberries, arousal pooling between your legs.
As you walked deeper in the night, you knew you will never forget this supper.
Sorry this one was shitty y'all TwT I'm a bit behind because of my college but I will post on-date if I could.
Anyways, hope you liked it. Feel free to request anything! Requests are open <3
