Wind Through Green Leaves
"Hello there, enjoying the river today?"
I nearly fell into the river when the Elf appeared behind me. "Oh, you scared me." I gasped, getting to my feet unsteadily.
He swiftly reaches out, his slender hand gripping your arm to steady you. "Whoa, easy! The river's hungry today." He pulls you gently back from the edge, a soft smile playing on his lips. His bright grey eyes flicker with amusement.
"That makes two of us..." I joked, only to realize how pitiful that sounded.
He tilts his head, studying you with quiet curiosity. The wind stirs gently through the trees above, rustling the leaves like whispered secrets. "My name is Legolas. You're not from these woods, are you?" Legolas doesn't let go of your arm just yet to make sure you're steady.
"No, I'm just passing through. Sorry to have troubled you." I bowed my head and walked past him, headed back to the trail. I don't trust strangers.
Legolas watches you go, the light in his eyes dimming slightly. He doesn't like how quickly you withdrew, like a deer bolting at the first sound. Without thinking, he takes two swift steps and falls into stride beside you on the trail. "You don't trust me," he says softly, not accusingly, but stating it plainly. "I can feel that." The air around him is calm, peaceful... yet there's a quiet strength beneath his gentle tone.
"What makes you say that?" I adjusted my satchel, pulling it closer to my side, and kept walking, head down. Leaves kicked up at my feet, reacting to the nerves building in my heart.
Legolas keeps pace easily. He glances sideways at you, the tension in your shoulders, the way you clutch that satchel like a shield. "Your steps are quick," he says simply, "And your eyes, they're avoiding mine. Like a bird ready to fly away."
I suppressed a laugh; he didn't know my name yet, but it was an ironic comparison.
A soft breeze sweeps through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. It swirls around you both, not threateningly, but as if responding to something unseen. At least Legolas wouldn't know what it truly is.
"You're afraid," he adds quietly.
"I'm not afraid of you, but of what you may do." I slid my hand subconsciously to my dagger sheathed at my hip and kept walking.
Legolas notices the shift, the hand moving to the dagger, subtle but deliberate. His breath hitches just slightly, not in anger, but sadness. He stops walking. For a moment, he simply stands on the trail behind you, silent as a shadow beneath silver birches. The wind stills entirely, as if holding its breath.
Then softly, so softly it might've been mistaken for rustling leaves, he speaks: "I would never harm an Elf who walks these woods." No pride. No demand for trust. Just quiet honesty.
"I am no Elf." I used my wind to cover my ears with my hair.
Legolas freezes. The moment your wind rises, soft, swift, controlled, he feels it. Not the usual gust of a passing storm, no. This is something different. His eyes widen, not with suspicion now, but wonder.
" If you're not an Elf," he breathes, "...What are you?" He doesn't move closer. Doesn't reach for a weapon. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, like a curious deer studying something rare and magical.
"I'm just a girl passing through." I shrugged.
Legolas doesn't believe you, not entirely. Not with the wind still curling around your face, not with the way it responded to your emotion like a loyal hound. He studies you, the dark brown hair shielding your ears, the guarded set of your jaw, and something in his chest tightens.
"You say that," he says gently, "but 'no girl passing through' bends air like a storm spirit." The trees shiver again, though no breeze touches them. The woods themselves seemed to lean toward you, curious, wary. Then he says softer: "...Are you running?"
"Are you chasing?" I looked over my shoulder briefly to gauge his reaction.
Legolas blinks, surprised by the sharpness of your question. Not anger, but caution. Like a wild creature testing boundaries.Ā A slow, small smile touches his lips, not mocking, not threatening... just warm.
"No," he says simply. "I'm not chasing you." He takes one deliberate step back to show it. Hands open at his sides, weapons undrawn. "I was walking this path long before you came," he adds with quiet humor. "If anything... I'm the one who stumbled into yourĀ way."
The wind eases around you slightly, as if calming too. "Well then, you should be on yours, and I will continue mine."
Legolas exhales softly, quiet acceptance. He watches as you keep walking, the wind gently parting before you like a path being cleared. For a moment, he considers saying nothing more. But then, impulsively, the prince of the Woodland Realm does something rare: he follows, not beside you this time... but at a respectful distance behind, his light footsteps on moss-covered earth, keeping pace without pressing closeāa shadow in silver and green, silent witness to your journey.
"I can hear you behind me, you know?" I tried to keep the annoyance and unease out of my voice as I turned to face him.
Legolas stops mid-step, caught. His breath hitches in surprise that you'd noticed him at all.He lifts his hands slightly, not to defend himself, but as a silent gesture of peace. "Of course," he says softly. "Elves are quiet... but not invisible." A pause. Then, honestly, "I didn't mean to follow like a shadow. I only wished... to walk the same road for a while."
"To reach a destination or to get answers to the questions that are swirling in your head?" It was getting harder to keep my patience.
Legolas is quiet for a long moment. The wind stirs the leaves above, and his grey eyes lift to the canopy, avoiding yours, not out of guilt, but thoughtfulness. "Both," he admits at last. He's a prince raised on truth and honor, but he's also curious by nature: adventurous, observant... drawn to mysteries that walk through his woods uninvited.
"The destination?" He gestures ahead. "There's a village two leagues east, a safe traveler's rest, " then softer, "But I wonder who you are... where you came from... why the wind listens so well."
I started walking again."The day has simply brought about a breeze." I was uncomfortable now; he was prying.
Legolas frowns slightly, not in disbelief, but in quiet frustration. The wind had curled around you, responding to your emotions. It didn't just blow; it obeyed. He takes a slow breath and looks up at the sky.
"Today brought no breeze,"Ā he says calmly. "Not until you walked into these woods." The trees are still again, no rustle or whisper of air. Only silence beneath a graying overcast sky. "And when I stepped too close? The wind rose like a shield between us." He meets your eyes now, gently persistent. "You don't have to tell me anything... but don't ask me to pretend I didn't see it."
"Then I won't, but you could try closing your eyes." There was bite in my words now.
Legolas actually smirks at that, a small, rare flash of amusement in his usually serene face. The tension eases just a little. "Closing my eyes?" he repeats, voice light with dry humor. "And risk tripping over roots? Falling into the river like you nearly did?" He takes one careful step forward and folds his arms across his chest. Still not pushing too close... but not retreating either.
"No," he says playfully, "I think I'll keep them open." A beat passes, "...Unless you'd prefer me to walk ahead? Lead the way?"
"I have no need to be led, and I wouldn't have almost fallen in the river if it weren't for you." And there went my patience.
Legolas' smile fades into quiet regret. He hadn't meant to startle you... And now the river incident felt like his fault. "Ah," he says softly. "You're right." He glances toward the water, still rippling from earlier currents, and then back at you. His voice loses its playfulness entirely, becoming sincere.
"I'm sorry I startled you. That was careless of me, a prince shouldn't sneak up on travelers like a forest ghost," with a small bow of his head, "No more surprises from me."
"A prince? "I turned around now to face him.
Legolas straightens as you turn, meeting your gaze at last. The wind picks up again,Ā as if reacting to the shift in tension between you.
"Yes," he says simply. There was no pride in his voice, "Legolas Greenleaf. Prince of the Woodland Realm." He doesn't bow dramatically or demand reverence. Just stands there: tall for an Elf, silver-gold hair catching the dull light through leaves, dull grey eyes steady on yours. The title might mean nothing to a traveler who avoids kings and courts... but it explains his quiet authority, why birds hush when he passes.
I curtseyed to him, "Forgive me, your Highness."
Legolas' breath catches, genuinely surprised. He hadn't expected a curtsy, especially not from someone who'd been so guarded moments ago.
"Oh," He raises a hand instinctively, as if to stop the formality. "No. Please." His voice is warm but firm with discomfort; not because of your respect, but at the sudden distance it creates between you. "No titles," he says quickly. "Not here. Not on this path. Just Legolas."
"I hardly think that's appropriate, my Lord." I turned and continued down the path, not caring whether he followed now.
Legolas watches you walk away, with the stiff set of your shoulders and the formality in your tone. It stings a little, not because he craves deference... but because it feels like a wall just went up between you. He doesn't follow immediately. For the first time since meeting you, the prince hesitates. 'Your Highness. My Lord.'Ā Words meant to create distance, polite armor for strangers who don't trust each other. But Legolas isn't used to being treated like a stranger in his own woods. After five slow breaths, counted by his heartbeats, he finally steps forward again... walking behind once more, silent as ever.
"Are you truly already headed this way, or are you expecting further engagement with me? If I am upon your lands illegally, I shall see myself off them as quickly as possible; if you must arrest me, so be it." I didn't look back at him, but I tried my best to keep a neutral tone and the wind still.
Legolas stops walking. The words hit him like a cold splash of water, sharp, accusing, and entirely wrong. His face loses all trace of playfulness.
"You're not on my lands illegally,"Ā he says firmly. "No Elf, or anyone, is turned away from these woods for simply passing through." He steps in front of you this time, not blocking your path completely, but facing you squarely. His grey eyes are steady, serious now; the prince speaking as a ruler who protects all travelers under his care. "And I have no interest in arresting you."
He paused. Then spoke softly: "I'm not following to detain or judge... I'm here because I wanted to walk beside someone new."
I softened my eyes and couldn't help a small grin from hiding on my lips. "It seems you don't come across strangers often." Legolas sees the softening in your eyes, the tiny, fleeting grin, and something warm blooms in his chest: relief and a little bit of hope that he can't understand.
"No," he admits with a small, sheepish smile of his own. "We don't get many strangers here. Most who wander these woods are elves returning from far lands... or travelers on official business." He gestures vaguely eastward, toward Rivendell and beyond. "People just passing through? Not often." Then he tilts his head slightly, studying you with quiet delight, as if discovering something rare and wonderful: a wild bird that finally perched nearby instead of flying away.
I blushed as I suddenly remembered my manners. " Apologies, my Lord, for my rudeness. My name is Wren."
Legolas' face lights up genuinely brightly as you give your name. Wren. A soft, melodic sound that suits the not Elf, Elf in front of him."Wren," he repeats quietly, like a secret he's savoring. And then, with no hesitation this time: "Legolas. Just Legolas."
He takes a small step closer and offers the slightest bow of his head. Not because of some princely protocol... just an Elf greeting another. "No need for apologies," he says warmly. "You were cautious. I understand that better than most."
A gentle breeze stirs between you, not from anger or defense... but softer. I sighed. "As you can clearly see from my ears, I am an Elf, but I'd like not to be considered as such."
Legolas blinks and looks at your ears for the first time. They're slightly pointed, not human, kept hidden by your hair most of the time, clearly kept concealed on purpose. Ah. That explained it, the wind that answered you like a sibling, the guardedness... an Elf who didn't want to be seen as one. He doesn't flinch. Doesn't question loudly. Instead, he just nods, slow and thoughtful, as if piecing together a quiet puzzle in his mind.
"So," he says gently, "you're an Elf... but you don't wish to be called one." He paused. "And I shouldn't assume anything about where you came from or why."
"Hmmm," I hummed in agreement. IĀ expected him to press me to ask for answers.
Legolas doesn't ask. Not a single question about your past, your bloodline, why you hide your ears, or reject the title of Elf. He simply walks beside you, now at your pace, not too close, not pushing for conversation.
The silence between you isn't awkward... It's calm. Respectful.
Wren finally finds out who she is and where she came from, but not only that...she finally lets herself fall in love...with a prince. Legola
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