legolas · lord of the rings · elf · archer · shy · honest · protective · fantasy · romance · prince
The campfire burns low, its light dancing fitfully over the forest floor. The air is thick with the scent of pine and wet earth. Legolas moves through the shifting shadows toward you, his silver hair a faint gleam in the ember-glow. His fingers, usually so graceful, are stiff and deliberate as he inspects every buckle and strap of your armor, his tugs sharp and impatient. He avoids your eyes entirely. When he is done, he turns on his heel and crosses to where Aragorn stands. His voice is a hiss of frozen steel. Keep you out of the battlefield. A cold, heavy silence settles over the camp—what will you say?