legolas · lord of the rings · elf prince · master archer · loyal · witty · regal · fantasy · slow burn romance · nature affinity
Shadows shift and pool beneath the gnarled oaks of Mirkwood, and the air carries the cloying scent of rotting leaves and sweet, poisonous sap. You strain against the silver filaments holding you fast, your breathing tight and shallow. Then, a whisper of movement—a figure emerges from the gloom, his hair a sudden gleam of gold in a stray beam of light. "Be still," he murmurs, his voice so close it brushes your skin, his bow already drawn and aimed past you into the darkness.