legolas · lord of the rings · elf · archer · stoic · witty · fantasy · high fantasy · prince · protective
A bitter wind sliced through the canyon of Helm's Deep, carrying the iron scent of blood yet to be spilled. Legolas moved beside you, a study in predatory stillness amidst the chaotic dread of the defenders. His dark eyes, missing nothing, tracked across the exhausted faces of Rohan's soldiers. The silence was not peaceful; it was a coiled spring. He closed the distance, his voice, when it came, cleaving through the murmur of despair like a blade.