Holding On

Holding On

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings Ship/Pairing: Haldir x Reader Trope: Best Friends to Lovers Note: Took advantage of the potentially invented elven tradition of gifting someone your most precious possession after your first kiss :D. Warnings: Angst/Miscommunication - damn you Haldir/Slight smut if you squint and zoom at the very end. Word count: 2 836 Tag-list: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard @sotwk

The gentle breeze brought a soft tune to your ears. Of course, he would be playing in the first hours of the night. What else could he do, before leaving for another long month of patrol? Certainly not seek you out. The bitter lingered.

Haldir was a dear and close friend of yours. He had drawn you in with his cheekiness and teasing words. You were lucky enough to know those sides of him, usually hidden. Unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of those same unruly sides, sometimes. It felt harder and harder with each joust of words to stop the ones you wanted to say from blurting out of your mouth. Today was about fixing that. Upon walking the narrow path, your eyes met his silhouette before he could see you. The length of his hair covered his face. His bow and arrows were left in the grass, carefully propped against a branch. His head rose, and he finally saw you. A flutter of wings came to life in your stomach. He smiled at you.

“What are you doing out this early, melon?”

You had no good answer for that. Knowing he was leaving was one thing. Seeing him do so, even in your dreams, was another. Every departure was a torment for you.

Your lips curled sadly with your next words.

“Why did you not say goodbye, Haldir?”

The underlying harshness of your tone startled him. He paled, his eyes growing wide. He did not expect that. Not from you. You who were gentle and kind. Soft-spoken and careful in all manners of life. He never wanted to disappoint you. Nor hurt you. After your first encounter, he knew very quickly your presence could never be replaced by anyone else. When he identified those feelings as more than friendship, he snuffed them out. The mere thought of losing you because of them was unbearable. Deep down, he knew you would not leave him so. Yet, he feared it all the same and kept himself quiet.

“I thought I did. What is happening to you?”

A heavy sigh. Again, your emotions had got the better of you. The loneliness he left behind was a most cruel sentiment to have. Or to hold on to. His hands had stopped playing, and he laid the instrument next to him.

“I am sorry. I fear my future loneliness at your departure is haunting me in advance.”

Haldir chuckled weakly. You always did have a way with words. Even more so since becoming a script here in the palace. Where he was the one leaving, you were always the one staying. It tore his heart in two to see you afflicted so. The Marchwarden did not know what to do to alleviate the sadness in your eyes. You stepped forward until he had to raise his head to look at you. Soon, you sat down in front of him. An itch went through him from his fingertips to his shoulder blade; how he wanted to touch you right now…

“And you woke up this early because of it? Have I altered your sleeping by my rudeness? — Do not flatter yourself that much, Haldir.”

Finally, a smile had made its way onto your face. You reckoned that being mad at him was not your best skill. Unwavering, he stared at you expectantly, wishing you would answer and share your troubles with him, as you always did. This time proved harder than the other ones.

“I have made a decision.”

His eyebrows rose.

“What kind of decision? — About… us.”

His heart skipped a beat, and his breath shortened. He frowned even more, at a loss for words.

“We have been friends for a long and appreciable time. — Yes, we have. — Please do not interrupt me, it is already so hard to do…”

You bit on your lip, your courage leaving as water out of its bed. His stare became more present, his fingers tapping an invisible rhythm against the earth. Could this be it? Or had he been a fool this whole time?

“As a token of my appreciation, I want you to have this.”

Out of your hand, a piece of paper neatly folded — just as you knew how to. He had had those notes before. When you wanted to see him but could not fetch him yourself. Or when you wanted to say anything to him while he was on patrol. He took the piece of paper, seemingly heavier than the lasts. It seemed to contain something. Before he could pry it open, you stopped him.

“I also want you to wait until you are at your post.”

He looked at you as if you had grown a second head.

“Humour me. — Oh, I will.”

You laughed with him this time, inclining your head on one side. He found it entirely too endearing.

“I will, I promise. — Thank you.”

The letter clutched in his hand, he found himself speechless again.

A loud sound announced his departure. A few of his comrades passed you by. They soon waited by the end of the path for him to follow.

“Goodbye, my friend.”

While saying the words, he grabbed what was his, placing your letter in an inside pocket close to his heart. You noticed. You smiled as brightly as you could.

“Safe travels, my friend.”

He smiled brightly back, always one to try to cheer you up. Before you could register what he had done, he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles. His steps were barely echoing around you anymore when you realised. The flutter in your stomach turned into a full storm.

*

The advanced post took them three whole days to reach. During those three days, Haldir could not help himself from touching and toying with the piece of paper you left him with. He was patient; you knew that. When it came to you, he could have waited another lifetime. Yet, this simple piece of paper and what it contained, almost weightless, made him more impatient and frustrated than the longest watch had ever done.

Finally, he reached his destination, and they relieved the others from their patrol. He waited the middle of the night to be alone and open the gift you had left him with. The paper unfolded easily enough. It almost toppled the thin ring left inside. The details were weaved around it, organised in rows of leaves and polished silver. It could not have belonged to you. The size was too big, and the ornaments were indicative of a skilled touch. He held the jewel in his palm for the longest time, almost losing track of what he was supposed to watch out for. Luckily, his brother had joined him and kept an extra eye out when he saw him entranced by what an object he could not see. Rúmil only hoped it would be a good thing. And made a mental note to ask about it later on.

On the paper, read the following.

“Dear friend,

I have known you for the longest time. I have cared for you for just as long. In truth, I have more than cared for you. My friendship was soon turned into affections and my affections turned into love. True unbearable, unbreakable love. This seems sudden, I know, and if you do not feel the same, I wish you would forget all about this affair and we will go back to the way things were. I promise not to bring it up again. In my heart, I know that no matter what, I will always be by your side. I believe you know in our tradition, a first show of affection is to be rewarded by that which is most precious to us. With the ring, I hope to offer a payment in advance. You see, this belonged to my father. Before him, my grandfather and before him, my great grandfather. It has seen better times. I hope it will see better times. He passed it onto me, as his only child. It is my most precious and meaningful possession. I want you to have it, for if you feel the way I do, there is no other way forward but to spend the rest of my life with you.

You have known me to be meek, but when I am with you, I become brave. I want to be brave with you.

Again, if you do not wish for me in those ways, I will understand. That ring, nevertheless, shall always be yours, for I will never love anyone else.

With love, Your friend.”

Haldir’s breath stopped. The shock must have shown on his face, for the comrade next to him shook his shoulder in the hopes of waking him up from his reverie. A wide smile had spread across his face, his heart beating anew.

“Are you alright? — I am. Now go back to your posts, please.”

Never before had he said please when giving orders. They figured this letter must have broken his skull, for he spent the rest of the month whistling and daydreaming, spending more time alone than with them. The oldest knew. The youngest were still asking questions. When they received no answers, they settled for quiet speculations.

None of them could have figured out what was happening in Haldir’s head the whole time.

*

You waited for an answer.

It never came.

Your days were spent writing and copying the history of your people, under a strict supervision. Celeborn would have no mistake be made, whereas Galadriel encouraged you in more positive ways. They were nervous, for those scrolls were to be sent to other countries for archiving. They were a testimony and inheritance of your people’s knowledge and myths. No room for errors.

Alas, you were distracted. On the first week, you were wondering if anything had happened to Haldir during his trip to his post. Then, news came that his group had safely arrived. The second week, you convinced yourself he did not return your attachment and cried yourself to sleep every night. It was cruel, but you had expected it. After all, he was a Marchwarden and you were a mere scribe. The third one, right before he was supposed to come back, you willed yourself to go back to the way it was. He was probably giving you the space to mourn and grieve for what would never be. You had to let things go, eventually.

On the day he did come back, Haldir made no specific announcement to you, nor did he arrive during daylight. Rúmil had warned him about showing up at this hour, himself having gone directly to bed. Of course, he did not listen to his brother. Especially when he was teasing him about the love-struck face, he had a hard time hiding, all the way back home. The first thing he did was seek you out. Despite his restlessness, the odd hour triumphed over him, and he could not find you anywhere. Straight away, he went to your room, which for this hour should not have been this cold, nor this lifeless. Your bed was undone, it was obvious you had trashed around in it, the sheets left in disarray. Your work clothes were scattered around the floor. The windows were open, a faint trace of flowers in the air. He did not recognise this to be you. His worry only grew when he found inks and quills, papers thrown about on the desk. All of them with his name, some angry, others drowned in tears. The library was empty, your usual meeting point by the pond too. No guard could tell him where you had gone. He almost snapped his bow under the pressure of his hands. A quick detour to his room and he dropped off his bags and weapon. It was his fault. All of it. Not knowing what you wanted him to do, he had tried to write letters, never sending them out. It was all his fault for not telling you, even in unwisely chosen words, how he truly felt. What an actual idiot he had been. Only then did he realise where you must have been and ran.

The scribes had all left their working space. And here you were, hunched over and scrapping paper after paper, in your usual measured manners. He halted his steps. From where he was, he could not see your face, nor your hands, yet he was sure they were covered in ink stains and sore from having been overused. His feet reached you rapidly. You were about to cry out when you turned around.

Haldir had been right. You were wearing a wrinkled nightdress, clinging onto your skin with the sweat, your eyes haggard, hands covered in small ink stains. You probably had touched your face too, for it had several spots of ink there too. One by your left eye, over your eyelid. Another on your cheek, spread in a wild sprawl. The last ones on both your temples, where you must have tried to erase a headache.

As well as tears. So much tears growing in your eyes dying on your lips, nesting in your throat, making your skin damp when he reached for your face. How could he had let this happen?

“Why are you here? — I love you.”

He figured that in the state you were in, brutality was the swiftest way of ripping this sadness away. He did not think far enough to predict the anger that would follow.

“And you’re only telling me now!”

You wanted to hit him. Badly. Even tried to slap him. If it were not for his stupid reflexes, you might have done so. He would have let you, if the need to embrace you had not been so overwhelming. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before securing his arms around you. You relented, too tired to fight with him. Without warning, he picked you up a hand under your knees and the other on your back. Your hands secured against his neck as he carried you out. Haldir did not bother looking out for onlookers. They would have no answer from him anyway, too focused as he was on seeing your face for the first time in a month. It was lucky this mission had been this short, otherwise… He did not want to imagine otherwise. Your room was the closest, and he reached it first, settling you in bed. You were the one to stop him. Those pleading eyes he could not resist, and a need to rest his bones close to the person he wanted to be with. He laid down with you, and you fell asleep safe and sound in his arms.

* The next morning, he woke up with a back pain, in the bed only made for one. You were nowhere in sight. He sighed. Maybe you had gone to wash and would come back soon. He waited a little while before deciding he probably had the time to wash and change too until you arrived. As he had been previously, he was wrong.

When you came back an hour later — the ink had washed away with difficulty and you needed clean clothes — your room was empty. No traces left behind. Frustration took root within you. Where could he be? Showing up in the middle of the night, no notes, no nothing announcing his return. Not directly from him, at least. You had hoped for a letter or a missive. Something, anything.

He did not have another mission yet, as far as you knew. The only logical places he could be were the bathhouse or his chambers. You chose the latter. You stomped into his bedroom with no warning.

“You did not say goodbye, Haldir.”

A chill ran down his spine. His undressed state did not seem to phase you. But then again, he thought he was the only one in love in this relationship and it had proved wrong. Deciding against his first instincts, he put a light shirt on and walked to you. You wanted to slap the smirk off of his face. Just as much as you wanted to take that shirt off of him right this instant.

“No, you did not this time. — I did not?! How… — Please…”

This time, he was the one pleading for mercy. You were looking precious, like this. A nymph or a divine being, freshly out of the water, droplets dragging against your skin. Haldir’s thumb touched your lips lightly, plump and warm against his fingertips. Your breath shortened, anger drowned by him. By his arm around your waist, by his breath fanning over your cheek, his hair caressing your collarbones, your throat, firm hands mapping your back. The fire within you could not be stopped this time.

“If you start this… — I know.”

His lips touched yours, and the world was ablaze. He brought your legs against his hips. You could feel his desire against your core. Never before had you willingly surrendered to your feelings like this.

You felt the edge of a silver ring you knew by heart around his finger. You bit your lips hard and kissed him again, even harder.

There was no letting go now.

Only holding on.

What the Devil Doesn’t know

(Witch! Namjoon x Demon! Jimin x human! Reader) (Soulmate au)

Summary: when Jimin dies suddenly and mysteriously it leaves both you and namjoon devastated. But maybe Jimin’s story didn’t end there, maybe he’ll find a way to come back to you from beyond the grave.

Tags: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, themes of grief, depression, nightmares, night terrors, devil characters, magical au, witch! namjoon, magic shop au. soulmate au, brief mention of shapeshifter! Yoongi, brief yoonkook. 

W/C: 5.1k

A/n: this was heavily inspired by a dream that I had where Tae (or something posing as Tae in my dreams) said to me “I don’t care who you love in this life-but when you die- you’re mine” so yeah! when I die I’m getting that good demon dick! happy Halloween everyone!! 

Playlist: Work song - Hozier, when we all fall asleep where do we go?- Billie Eilish, Devil like me- rainbow kitten surprise.

 - As with most sweet things in life, It starts with a flower.

- Namjoon’s friend, Yoongi a shapeshifter, gives him it to him early one morning. though really, Namjoon shouldn’t be surprised that yoongi arrived just after sunrise, pawing at the window in his cat form until namjoon lets him in. he doesn’t shift until namjoon has a cup of coffee poured for him. One moment a cat and the next a very grumpy human. He barely says a thing before he plops the bulb onto Namjoon’s kitchen counter and raises an eyebrow at his unkempt hair over his coffee.

- Namjoon grumbles at that, unlike Yoongi- he doesn’t have anyone to be put together for at almost 5 in the morning. And his shop won’t open for a few more hours either- he has more than enough time to shower and be presentable before then. 

- “You have better luck with flowers than I do” he justifies. And he’s not wrong- but this flower- is something peculiar of note. All Namjoon has to do is pick it up before he realizes what the blub is- and more importantly why Yoongi has brought it to Namjoon instead of trying to pawn it off or keep it for himself.

- The flower is none other than the species ‘Animus Videndceus’ or the ‘soul seeing flower’, and it has the unique ability to bloom according to one’s soulmate.

Keep reading

What about Legolas x F!reader? Maybe she is a friend of Eomer and Legolas gets jealous about all the time they stay together? And some hot moment? I don't know, this is just an Idea. So, I'm sorry for my bad english but I'm Italian. Have a good day❤️

Just a reminder Legolas x Reader Warnings: jealousy, smut

Summary: Legolas reminds you of the reasons you are with him.

A/N: Please don't be sorry for your English. I know the struggle. :)

The grassland is covered in a bright golden hue as the sun reaches the top of the clear blue sky. The lush, green grass waves like the ocean as a breeze runs through the peaceful scenery. Everything is so quiet and calm. It is almost impossible to believe the dark power that works and marches forward underneath it all. The warm rays of the sun caress your bare arms and your cheeks. The tree you lean against is tall and strong, bending its branches to the will of the slight wind. The rustle of the leaves is a sweet whisper in your ear as you focus on the story in front of you. The book is a pleasant weight on your lap. The pages are old and thin between your fingers.

"What are you reading?" Legolas's voice breaks your concentration, but you feel nothing but happiness as you turn your eyes from the long row of words to the tall elf standing a few meters away from you. "Just a book," you shrug. "Tales for children." "Are they good?" He asks, sitting down next to you with a few elegant movements. "You know how it is," you hum, closing the book and putting it on the ground. "The good always wins, and the bad guys pay for their misdeeds as they should." "It was easier to believe in it when we were kids, no?" The elf asks. You can almost see his blue eyes darkening with ominous thoughts. "Sometimes it's harder when you are an adult, yes," you reply, reaching out for his hand to link your fingers together. "But there is always hope." "I heard you will go with Gandalf." "Yes," you nod. "He thinks Eomer will listen to me." A slight frown appears between his brows. His lips turn into a thin line. "Are you friends with the rider?" "Something like that, yes." "When we met them, he asked you to come with them." You barely recognized him when your way met with the riders during your search for the hobbits. You smile and nod in confirmation. "Why are these questions?" "Why didn't you? Went with them, I mean." "You are my home, Legolas," you reply, squeezing his hand in yours. "I won't leave you." "But you will go with Gandalf." "He asked me," you reason, getting a little bit confused. Something is off with Legolas, but you can't find out what. "And it's just for a few days. We need every help we can get." "Are you sure?" He asks. He feels selfish, and guilt eats him up inside because of it, but he can't help himself. He knows orcs and death will wait for you in Helm's Deep, but he can't bear the thought of you staying with the riders. With Eomer. "Legolas," you say his name softly, cupping his cheek with your free hand. Your thumb caresses the soft skin under his eye. "Of course, I will come back to you. There is nothing that can keep me away from you." He smiles at your words. The slight curve of his lips gives him something angelic and ethereal that you can never get used to. You still don't understand how the elven prince can love you, a simple mortal, but he does, and you stopped questioning it years ago.

Soon, his lips find yours, and the kiss that always starts so gently is impatient and rushing now. His hand lands on the back of your head to keep you close, while his tongue slips into your mouth with ease. He invites you to a dance that's intimate and familiar. "Don't get me wrong," you hum when he breaks away. His breath still fans over your lips. It smells like ale and fruits. "I love your kisses, but you still don't tell me something." Now, the guilt is transparent on his delicate features, and he looks down at your intertwined fingers. The small gesture makes his years younger. "I just…" he sighs. "I just don't want you to find something with the rider that will make you stay with them… with him." "Oh, my love," you laugh, pecking his lips when you notice the slight blush spreading on his cheeks. "There is nothing that makes me stay where you aren't." Your words are followed by another kiss. It's feverish and bruising and makes you lose your breath for long seconds. His hand finds the loose curls at the nape of your neck, and before you know it, you are lying on the grass with Legolas above you. When he looks into your eyes, the glint you know so well by now is back in his bright blue irises. "I love you," he says, caressing the line of your jaw. "I love you too," you hum against his lips before gasping at his sudden touch. " What are you doing?" "Just a reminder of what I can do to you." He bares your legs with a few quick pulls on your dress until his hand finds its way between your thighs. "Legolas," you gasp again, looking around your surroundings. "What if someone sees us?" "I will hear them before they can see us," he promises. "Do you trust me?" The question makes your legs spread open before his caressing touch. "Of course."

His lips wander down your neck, caressing the soft skin there with slow, lazy kisses while his long fingers find their way to your center after pushing your panties aside. His fingertips slide over your fold easily. Your wetness soaks him within a few seconds. "You are so wet already," he hums. His words flutter in your chest. Your heart thuds against your ribcage. "Legolas," you pant his name, grabbing his shoulder. Your other hand tries to find some support on the ground. The grass is soft under your touch. "I'm here, love," he replies. "And I won't go anywhere until you cum around my fingers." Your eyes fall shut as the pleasure flares through your body. It burns your veins and spins the world around you. His thumb draws small circles on your clit, helping you to chase your orgasm. His breath fans over your neck, and his voice make you tremble some more. "Who makes you feel this good?" He asks, and when you don't answer immediately, he doesn't wait to push two fingers inside your aching hole. Your head falls back, and a moan breaks up from your throat. "Say my name, Y/N," the elf demands. "Let everyone hear who you belong to." His name leaves your lover's name in breathless whines as his hand speeds up between your legs. He pushes you to the edge and doesn't give you enough time to process what's happening. "Cum, Y/N," Legolas says. "Make a mess on my hand. Give me something to remember while you are far away from my arms."

Pleasure washes over you as the burning coil snaps in your lower belly. Your muscles jerk, and your breath stops for a long second. Your orgasm comes quickly and powerfully. It feels like Legolas's arms are the only things that keep you in one piece.

When you open your eyes, you see him licking your juices off his fingers. A satisfied smile plays on his lips the whole time. "You will get more when we meet again," he promises.

My heart is at peace once more.

Should’ve Known Better II; Lee Felix

Genre: superhero!au, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of a (minor) character death, kisses

Hi, loves! Guess who’s finally back with a fic :’) I am low-key nervous to post again after going on an unannounced/unintentional hiatus, but I hope you will like this part 2 of Should’ve Known Better! Don’t forget to leave feedback 🫶

Read part one HERE

Drip drop. Drip drop.

The sound of the leaking water pipe in the dark cave was slowly making Felix lose his mind the past two days. With hooded eyes, he scanned the weapons laying scattered on the tables. He wondered if the men had left them there on purpose to taunt Felix. As if to say: “if only you weren't completely beaten up, you would've been able to get the weapons and eliminate us. If only Y/n had not betrayed you and put you in chains that suppressed your powers, maybe then you'd be free now.”

Felix wiped his eye but immediately winced at the pain rushing through his face at the action. The hit he received to his right eye left it bruised.

After you left him in the cave two days ago, the men Felix had been trying to catch for a year, quickly arrived and when they saw on Felix, nasty grins covered their lips. Even though he was supposed to feel scared, and terrified even when the men started running tests on him and didn't hesitate to beat him up some more, the only thing Felix could feel was pain. And not the physical one. The only thought on his mind was you. The pain you caused him. The nonexistent love you made him believe in. With sweet words and soft touches, you led him to his own grave. You backstabbed him in the worst way possible. You broke his heart entirely.

Felix let out a ragged breath as he averted his eyes to the wound on his chest. If he wouldn't get antibiotics soon, it was going to get infected badly. And without any of his healing powers, he wasn't sure if he'd survive that. Although, surviving did not seem like a possibility anyways anymore. Felix just had a hard time accepting that. This couldn't be the end of him, right? What was the city going to do without one of its superheroes? Who was going to protect the people of Miroh against Black Venom once they acquired Felix’s powers?

A tear rolled down Felix's cheek and he closed his eyes. Maybe it was best if he died as soon as possible.  Escaping was not an option anymore and if the men would come back and run more tests on him, they had more chance to get to what they were looking for: how to copy Felix's powers and use them to their own advantage. Felix would rather die than catch sight of the damage they would do once they had the powers he owned.

The muffled sound of a small crack interrupted the silence in the cave and Felix's train of thought. He frowned but his eyes remained shut. Must have been just a rat, he thought.

Another sound entered Felix's ears, this time a louder one, and he opened his fatigued eyes. The sound seemed to have come from above him and he looked up. His eyes fell on the ceiling vent and he gradually frowned when the vent seemed to shake slightly. Felix narrowed his eyes and slowly tried to push himself up to get a closer look at where the sound was coming from.

Complete silence engulfed the cave once again but Felix did not sit back down. He slowly titled his head, his eyes scanning the vent.

All of a sudden a loud bang was heard and Felix jumped back before the vent came crashing down, missing the already injured boy by just a hair or two.

Felix's chest heaved up and down with erratic breathing as he looked at the hole in the ceiling with wide eyes.

Only a second later a person dropped from the hole and gracefully landed on both hands and feet on the cold floor.

Felix shook his head. This couldn't be-

"They should clean that space up someday," you muttered as you looked up at the ceiling you just dropped out off.

You turned to Felix and your throat immediately tightened at the sight. He looked ten times as bad as when you left him here two days ago. Dry blood stuck to the freckled skin of his face and dark blue swelling surrounded his right eye. They had stripped him off his shirt, making the large wound on his chest visible to you.

Your lower lip trembled but you quickly cleared your throat and looked away. "They beat you up well, I see."

Although he was beaten up physically, you felt like the worst damage was done mentally. His eyes seemed to be stolen of life and emotion. He was almost unrecognizable.

"What are you doing here?" Felix growled, looking up at you from the ground.

"Oh, I don't know, watch a movie and chat a little- Of course, I came to get you out of here," you quipped before looking down at him but he just frowned.

"And why on earth would I trust you? You might as well get me out of here to sell me to an even worse gang for more money," Felix retorted and you slightly winced before nodding.

"Okay, I deserved that one. I made a mistake, I know I did. But if you were in my posit-" you quickly caught yourself and swallowed your words before sighing with closed eyes. "I have no valid reason to give you to believe or trust me, but please, Felix, we do not have much time before they come back so I have no other option than to hope you'll believe me so we can get out of here," you almost begged the boy. Felix inspected you as if trying to decide whether trusting you again was the worst decision he could make. "Please," you whispered.

"Free me from these chains," Felix murmured and you froze for a second before quickly nodding.

Not even five seconds later, the locks of the chains were opened, revealing Felix's bruised wrists.

You watched him as he took deep, ragged breaths and you knew his powers were coming back to him. But with the severity of his injuries, you weren't sure his powers were able to heal him quick enough or give him enough strength to be able to fight the gang, at least now.

"You're too weak to fight them now."

Felix's wild eyes shot up at you and without thinking you took a step back. You had brought Felix into this situation, and now that his powers were back, it wouldn't be a surprise if he ended you here and now. You just had not thought about that before coming here. The only thing on your mind was Felix and the need to save him. You were blinded by guilt and by the love you wished you didn't feel for the boy.

Felix noticed the way you balled your fists and let out a bitter chuckle. "I am not going to kill you, Y/n. I am not like you," he hoarsely stated and his words hit you like a punch in the face.

You shook your head and tears pooled in your eyes. "I am not a murdered, Felix."

This made fury flash in Felix's eyes and in a sharp movement, he had you backed up against the wall with the side of his forearm horizontally pressing against your throat.

"Leaving me here to my death comes pretty close to my definition of being a murderer," Felix breathed.

You looked up at the ceiling before squeezing your eyes shut, causing a tear to escape. "You just don't understand, Felix. You never will."

Felix's jaw tightened and he inched closer to you, his nose brushing against yours.

"Try me, Y/n."

He tilted his face, his lips now almost touching yours as his arm pressed harder against your throat.

"Explain to me why you did what you did and let me be the one to decide whether I'll understand you or not," he hissed.

Felix had never scared you before.

But after betraying him the way you did, you wouldn't blame him if he did hurt you. He just told you he wouldn't kill you, but the fire in his eyes was telling you otherwise. And you couldn't be mad at him for it. Maybe you did deserve this.

He had been beaten up, starved, and run tests on. All because of you, someone he trusted, someone he loved. 

"We don't have much time left, Felix. Y-You have to trust me and let me get you out of here."

His dark eyes searched for yours and for a second a thick silence fell over the cave as you and Felix stared at each other. Another tear rolled down your cheek and Felix's eyes flickered from yours to the tear.

Slowly he let go of you and stepped back. But just as he was going to speak up, he stumbled and you quickly stepped forward to catch him. "Felix?!"

"I-I'm fine," he wearily murmured but the blue veins appearing on his face and chest told you otherwise. What was going on with him?

Your eyes flickered to the chains laying on the ground and it was only when you saw the blue liquid dripping from it, you realized Black Venom poisoned the metal.

Your eyes widened. "Oh my God, they poisoned you-"

Before he could respond, the door of the cave opened.

"Felix, get down!" You screamed.

With the last strength left in Felix's body, he ducked and you raised your arm to release a blow from your arm cannon.

The blast aimed at the Black Venom member sent the man flying against the wall behind him. Felix's eyes widened as they flickered from the unconscious man on the floor back to you with shock written all over his face.

"I'm on your side, Felix. Please believe me," you breathed, scared for the rest of the gang to arrive after hearing the combustion. Felix finally nodded.

You released a relieved breath. "Hold onto me."

Felix wrapped his arms around you and just before the rest of Black Venom came crashing into the cave, the two of you disappeared through the hole in the ceiling.

"So you know Black Venom?” Felix murmured as you finished wrapping the wound on his chest with a bandage. He was sitting down on the counter in your bathroom and watched you with dark eyes. You placed the first aid kit beside him on the counter and nodded as you prepared the shot with the antidote, avoiding eye contact with the boy.

"Before I can continue treating your other wounds, you will first need the antidote. The antidote does subdue your healing powers for a while, but without it, you won't survive for longer than a week. Therefore, I will treat your worst injuries and you will have to stay here until you're strong enough to lea-

"How?"

You looked up with a questioning expression on your face.

"How do you know Black Venom?" He asked.

You sighed, wondering if he even heard anything you just explained.

"My dad used to work for them."

Felix frowned as he watched you but stayed silent to allow you to continue.

"Growing up, my family did not have much money. We lived in the slum of Miroh. I saw how my father and mother would go to bed hungry, just so they could feed me and my siblings," you started before looking up at Felix.

"You said you didn't have family," Felix frowned.

You chuckled softly. "Because I did not want anyone to know they existed. It would only expose them to danger." Tears brimmed in your eyes but you quickly cleared your throat and held up the shot.

"This is going to hurt," you murmured.

You took a step closer to the boy, now standing in between his legs so you'd be able to have access to his neck. You immediately noticed the way he held his breath at the close proximity between you two but you tried your best to ignore it.

You placed your left hand on the side of his neck to keep it steady before piercing the needle through the skin on the right side of his neck.

Felix let out a gasp followed by a loud groan and his hands immediately shot to your waist, squeezing it tightly.

"Breathe, Felix, breathe," you whispered and after letting out a whimper, he dropped his forehead on your shoulder, loosening his grip on your waist but keeping his hands there. His chest heaved with heavy breathing and you couldn't help but entangle your left hand in his hair, softly stroking it to calm the boy down.

"Go on. Tell me more about your past. Distract me," he pleaded and you quickly nodded. 

"T-the moment I was old enough to make money, I did everything in my power to do so. When I was eleven I would sell posters, candy, flowers, anything that could give me a little bit of money to give to my parents,” you rambled before taking a deep breath. “But it wasn't enough. And that is when my father got involved with Black Venom."

Felix slightly shifted against your body but stayed silent.

"My father was a good man. He wasn't a criminal. But he needed money to keep his family alive, Felix, and working for Black Venom brought him money," you whispered and it was only when you looked at yourself through the mirror behind Felix, that you noticed the tear rolling down your cheek.

"But even if he wasn't a criminal by heart, being involved with Black Venom meant living in a dangerous underworld of criminals that could cost his life. And it did. The police shot him when I had just turned sixteen."

Felix frowned, feeling tears brim in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered against the skin of your shoulder.

You nodded, more tears falling from your eyes. "My mother was so heartbroken, she couldn't take care of my siblings and me anymore, so I knew I had to do it. I went to look for Black Venom. I hoped that because they knew my father, they could provide me and my family with some money, just enough so we could move away from Miroh and start a new life somewhere else." You scoffed, remembering how they reacted when they saw you. "I begged them on my knees, Felix. And they sent me away. Saying I was not their problem, that my family was not their problem. That my father's death was his own problem."

Felix clenched his jaw, feeling a weight of anger press onto his chest.

"And that's when I made the stupid decision of trying to steal from them. I was only sixteen and desperate, so one night I planned to rob one of their storages."

Felix raised his head to look at you, forgetting about the pain in his body from the antidote. "They caught you,” he mumbled, looking into your eyes.

You nodded. "I have been working for them ever since. They said they'd kill me and my family if I didn't."

"God, Y/n," Felix whispered.

"I'm sorry I made you fall into their trap, I am sorry I lied to you," you croaked before a sob escaped from your lips and Felix shook his head.

Your breath hitched in your throat when the boy wrapped his arms around you and pressed you against his body in a tight hug. Immediately, you buried your face in his neck, and he comfortingly stroked your hair as you cried.

"You did what you had to do to protect your family," he murmured, making you wrap your arms around Felix tightly.

"But you didn't deserve any of tha-"

"You risked your life to come back for me," Felix interrupted you with a soft voice.

Slowly, you looked up at him and searched for his eyes only to find he was already looking at you.

A thick silence engulfed the small bathroom as Felix and you looked each other in the eyes.

"I might've lied a lot to you," you quietly started, your voice hoarse. "But I never lied about my feelings."

Felix's heartbeat sped up and he held his breath.

"All of it was real. All our moments, all our kisses.. it was real, Felix."

Felix swallowed and his hand slowly made its way to cup your face, wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb. "All of it?" He whispered carefully.

"All of it," you replied and after the three words entered Felix's ears, he closed the gap by pressing his warm lips onto yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut and your heart immediately seemed to grow a size at the familiar feeling you had missed so much. The feeling of his plush lips moving in sync with yours, the feeling of sharing his breath, of being so incredibly close to him.

You carefully placed your hands on his waist and the feeling made Felix's skin burn. His thumb stroked your cheek as he pulled away slightly only to tilt his head and capture your lips with his again.

Although you wished the moment would never end, you pulled away and rested your forehead against his. "Felix," you whispered and he hummed while trying to catch his breath.

"I-I can not stay here."

Felix opened his eyes and his eyebrows furrowed together. "What do you mean?" He breathed as he tried to look for your eyes that were avoiding his.

"Staying in Miroh is too dangerous for my family, Lix. I am planning on taking them and leaving as soon as possible."

Felix's lower lip slightly trembled as he hastily shook his head. “What? No.”

You stepped back before turning around and running a hand through your hair, not knowing what to say to him.

Felix jumped off the counter and stepped closer to you once again. "Y/n, you can't leave."

You turned around and looked at Felix with sadness painted all over your face.

"I can't lose you again," Felix stated with glossy eyes.

“But-"

"I will protect you and your family, Y/n. Now that I know everything, I can protect you. After the two days I've been in their cave, I know what Black Venom wants, I know their weak spots. I know how to fight them now, how to defeat them," Felix rambled as he took your hands in his. "I will protect your family, Y/n, I promise. Hyunjin, Minho, Han, and all the other heroes of Miroh can protect them now we know of their existence. Please trust me.”

You looked into his desperate but determined eyes and even with the fear for your family's safety still existing, you believed Felix was speaking the truth. He would keep you and your family safe. The other heroes of Miroh would help. He would be able to capture Black Venom now and you wouldn’t have to work for or run from them anymore. Things could finally get better.

"Do you promise?" You mumbled as you took a step closer to Felix.

He intertwined your fingers with his and rested his forehead against yours.

"I promise."

He is so cute, love him 🥹

(Fem reader) legolas being clingy after spending the day away from reader. i want to see my doe eyes elf being pouty and acting like a touch starved bby please 🥺

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ pairing: legolas x fem!reader

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ word count: 0.5k

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ synopsis: a day spent away from you has left the prince in need of your touch now more than ever ( fluff, established relationship )

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ notes: omg omg i loved writing clingy legolas sm ty for the req !

˗ˏˋ 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 ´ˎ˗

One could have mistaken the woodland prince’s footfalls for a dwarf as they grew heavy upon entering his shared chambers with his beloved. 

Rarely did the prince commit the careless act of allowing dirt to track the halls of the kingdom, yet his boots caked with remnants of the forest floor follow him as the door closes behind him. A sigh holding a handful of burdens departs from his lips at the sight of an empty room. His eyes glaze over the neatly made bed, staring at the smoothed covers as though they are taunting him. Moonlight leaks through an exposed window, and he frowns among the darkness that has overtaken the room. Whoever prompted the notion of elves slipping through the passage of time was sorely mistaken it seems, as it now feels to him that it has been an eternity since he last bid you farewell (which was this morning, soft kisses pressing onto your cheeks as you slept soundly). The possibility that the weight of your absence could evoke such a hold on him was something he failed to consider when he began courting you—and now the once tireless and perhaps even invincible prince finds himself in a poor state without the loving nature your touch provides as he transforms from a deadly warrior into a wounded bunny. 

“Meleth nîn?” [ 'my love' ] His voice is quieter than his usual velvety tone, and his arms feel so empty without you tightly wound within their hold.

“In here!” You call from the bathing chambers, swiftly tying a robe over your waist before his steps follow your voice as though he's been coaxed by a spell. He smiles, relief in his eyes, shoulders relaxing as he greets the scent of woodland herbs that permeates within the bathing room. Strong arms pull you into an embrace and you are taken aback by his towering frame for a moment, shuffling slightly as he leans against you. His hand cradles the back of your head and he sighs, inhaling the scent of you while you bite back a laugh. “Hello,” you greet him softly and your head lifts to meet his gaze. His lips press onto your temple in a wordless reply and you sense that he is in extra need of your attention. "Long day?" You smile and his kiss trails to your lips. 

"Lay with me."  He says, and suddenly you are nestled next to him under warm covers with his face cocooned into your neck. His boots lay discarded at the foot of the bed, bracers tossed next to the fireplace that crackles lightly. Your hand works gently to undo his braids, delicate fingers running through his light tendrils. You are certain that he will clear both of your schedules tomorrow, and you are even more certain that you will not be able to leave his side for at least another day. And you have no objections, smiling as his hand finds yours and your fingers interlock with his. 

Three Weeks on the Nimrodel

Well, here it is. My first (and oldest) piece of fic. I'm going against my brand here by posting something set in Lorien when Rohan is really my jam. But this is the first thing I ever wrote, so it seems fitting that it should be the first posted, too.

Pairing: Haldir x reader (The reader is gender neutral beyond 2 uses of the descriptor "beautiful", which is still neutral to me but your mileage might vary.)

Genre: Romance, I guess

Summary: Two elves who are frequently misunderstood by others find the joy of having someone really see and value them for who they are.

Inspiration: This all came from the well loved gif above, in which Craig Parker does beautiful work communicating a whole emotional arc (surprise, confusion, acceptance, appreciation) when Aragorn unexpectedly shows Haldir some loving affection. In that half-second of screen time, I see an entire book of backstory about Haldir's character--about being someone who is very reserved by nature, who isn't necessarily comfortable freely expressing feelings and innermost thoughts, but who still feels deep emotional connections to others that can come out under the right circumstances. As a very reserved person myself, I can relate--if you tend to keep your thoughts and feelings close to the vest, people will make a lot of assumptions and judgments about you that probably aren't right, and that can be exhausting. When someone finally does understand you and allows you to be comfortable enough to open up on your own terms, it's a life changing experience. So that's what I tried to write.

Word count: approx 3200 (~ 6 pages)

**********

It is still early when you arrive in the center of Caras Galadhon, joining the crowd of elves waiting to find out where they will be posted for the next few weeks of guard duty. Most in the group are veteran marchwardens, deeply familiar with each other and the daily routine of life near the borders. By contrast, you are a city warden, often dedicated to the direct protection of the Lady of the Wood. But you have been asked to serve a temporary rotation on the borders while several of the regular marchwardens are away with Lord Celeborn on a visit to Mirkwood.

The change of pace is not unwelcome to you. While you love Caras Galadhon and are honored to spend time in the service of Lady Galadriel, you frequently find yourself craving distance from the city in favor of the quiet outlying areas, where it is easy to hear clear birdsong, the rustling steps of small animals scampering by, and the patter of light raindrops falling on mallorn leaves.

The crowd begins to murmur as the deputy captain appears and begins handing around sheets of paper with duty assignments. As the pages spread through the crowd, the murmurs turn to both sighs of disappointment and quiet expressions of satisfaction.

“All I want is to avoid the Nimrodel,” you overhear the elf next to you mutter to a friend of his. You recognize him as Calendil, who, like many of his companions, is well known for carousing around Caras Galadhon any time he is home on leave. As a group, the marchwardens are a boisterous company who seem always determined to pack several weeks of fun into the few days of free time they’ve been given. “Three weeks posted with the captain is more than can be asked of me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at this mention of Captain Haldir. You know him a little–everyone in Lorien knows the leader of the marchwardens–and have never before heard a negative word uttered about him. Your path does not often cross with his, but you admire his impressive record of achievements and have never seen him treat another elf with anything but courteous respect.

“You speak truly,” replies Calendil’s companion. “I cannot spend so much time with someone who has so little to say. That much silence is enough to drive one a little mad.”

A wave of indignation rolls through your body. It is undeniably true that Haldir is very reserved. He says little that isn’t necessary to the conduct of his duties, and what he is truly thinking behind his large blue eyes is often a mystery. But that has never seemed a negative trait to you. Indeed, you appreciate that he does not talk simply for talk’s sake and that he does not seem concerned with always making his own opinions known. What’s more, you recognize a fair amount of his inherent reserve in your own nature. If you didn’t often force yourself to satisfy others’ expectations by taking on a more outgoing, sociable persona, perhaps your own wardens would describe you just as these elves have described their captain.

Calendil’s conversation comes to an abrupt end as a copy of the assignment sheet makes its way into his hands. Peering over his shoulder, you quickly find your own name allocated to a remote post near the edge of the Dimrill Dale. A glance further down the list confirms what you already know from the quiet groan that has just escaped from Calendil’s lips: he has been assigned to the Nimrodel post.

An idea quickly forms in your head, and you tap him on the shoulder. Why should he spend three weeks feeling miserable with his posting–and, no doubt, making anyone around him miserable as a result–when you have no particular attachment to your own assignment? Calendil can go to the Dimrill Dale, and you will spend your posting with Haldir instead.

“If such a trade is permitted within your ranks, I will gladly make the exchange,” you offer. “I have always loved the river. And I have no objection to the company of someone who takes his duty seriously and does not revel in idle chatter.”

Calendil’s face registers a moment of regret as he realizes that his prior conversation has been heard by others, but it is quickly replaced by a wide, beaming smile that reflects his rapid change of fortune. “It is permitted,” he says, “and I happily accept. Remind me the next time we are both on leave, and I will reward your generosity with some of my own!”

You doubt that whatever reward he has in mind will suit your inclinations, but there is no need to worry about that now. Calendil has already sprinted off toward the deputy captain to report the change, and you turn toward home to gather your supplies.

****

Two days later, you are approaching the Nimrodel post, which is located in a lovely old mallorn tree with twisted roots that hang over the river’s edge. You raise your hand to your lips and whistle the signal. The return call echoes off the trees before a slim rope ladder drops from the branches above you. You run lightly up the rungs, making easy work of the climb to the talan perched near the great tree’s crown, where it commands a wide view of the river and much of the western section of the border.

As you hoist yourself and your pack onto the platform, you look up to see a single figure standing a few feet away. It is Haldir, leaning against the wind screen with his bow slung loosely over his shoulder and his white-blonde hair blowing gently in the breeze.You are surprised to see him there alone; wardens generally keep watch in pairs or groups of three for safety. You are there to relieve Arthalion, who is due now to return home for a break, but there is no sign of Arthalion or his things.

“Mae govannen, Captain,” you say, placing your hand on your chest and bowing your head slightly. “Is everything well?”

Haldir returns the gesture with a small smile. “Yes. It has been blessedly uneventful. Perhaps it is the threat of the weather.”

This makes sense. Just last month, an orc party attempting a surprise attack during a thunderstorm found themselves nearly washed away by sudden flooding from the Celebrant. Since then, even the hint of rain has tended to keep them at bay.

“And Arthalion? Is he out on a task?”

Haldir shakes his head. “I sent him back early. You might have passed one another in the forest except that he planned to meet a small hunting party further north. As I said, things here were quiet, and he was anxious to join his friends.” He gives a small shrug and looks down. “I will do the same for you, if circumstances allow and you desire it. I do not wish to keep anyone from their enjoyments unless duty requires it.”

You permit yourself a brief moment to wonder what Haldir’s own enjoyments might be. You have heard that he is a talented artist, making detailed pencil sketches of the forest, but he does not often show his work to others.

“That is a thoughtful offer,” you say. “But I have no pressing need to return, and I would not have you out here alone, even if there is no other elf in Lorien better able to protect himself.”

He acknowledges this compliment with a modest smile and gestures toward a small shelf where you can store your belongings. His own are few in number but neatly stacked or folded with military precision. You note that he does, in fact, have a small bundle of pencils and a notebook, but, as expected, there is no sign of any actual drawings.

After stowing your things, you settle into a position opposite him on the talan, and a silence ensues. It is of no bother to you–you’re enjoying the smell of the damp air and the touch of the light wind on your face–but you soon notice that Haldir is looking increasingly discomfited as the quiet minutes slip by. His gaze shifts frequently between the horizon, his hands on his bow, and your face.

“Was…your journey here pleasant?” His face is studiously neutral, but his voice sounds strained and he picks at a splinter on his bow. You realize that he is trying to make conversation for your benefit, to fill in the noticeable silence with casual talk that clearly does not come easily to him. You feel a sudden rush of affection for him, this intensely quiet being who is making himself uncomfortable so that you will feel welcome. You wonder how best to put him at ease.

“It was very pleasant,” you reply. “I am so rarely outside of the city these days that any chance to enjoy the forest is a gift. I can understand why being a marchwarden is an attractive job, at least during times of relative peace.”

He looks up, reappraising your face, and nods his agreement.

You hesitate before speaking again, unsure about how directly to address his uneasiness.

“Captain,” you begin, “it sounds like we may have an uneventful tour here. If that is the case, please do not feel that you are obligated to occupy my time. I am quite comfortable with quiet activity and my own thoughts and would gladly afford you space for the same if that is something you wish.”

His cheeks and ears flush slightly but, despite his apparent embarrassment at being accurately perceived, he seems immediately relieved as well. “Thank you,” he says. “If you are as good a warden as you are a reader of people, I feel myself in safe hands indeed.”

The next several days pass by peacefully. Between occasional scouting trips up or down the riverbank and regularly monitoring the view from the talan, you mostly spend the time together in companionable silence. You take turns preparing simple meals, and during breaks in the intermittent rain you make minor repairs to nearby rope bridges and other hidden defenses in the area. In the evenings, you read a book by lantern light while Haldir sits next to his own lantern and sketches in his notebook, occasionally transferring completed drawings into a closed leather folio at his side. Every so often, you both glance up at the same time, and you give him a warm smile when your eyes meet before turning back to your respective pages.

*****

One evening, as you clean up the remains of your small dinner and take out your book again, Haldir lightly clears his throat.

“That book seems to engage you much,” he says. “May I ask what it is?”

Surprised, you hold it out to him, and he takes it, examining the cover and flipping through a few pages.

“I do not recognize this script,” he says, looking at it with curiosity.

“It is a representation of Rohirric,” you tell him. “My brother was a skilled linguist who passed on some small portion of his knowledge to me. He spent many months visiting a friend in the court at Edoras and helped them to start preserving some of their oral traditions with a system of letters. This is a copy of one of his first completed projects–the story of the founding of Rohan–which he sent to me as a gift.”

Haldir looks again with renewed interest at a few pages before handing the book back to you. “Your brother sounds like an impressive scholar,” he says. “Does he remain in Rohan?”

You hesitate slightly before responding. “In a way. Two years ago an orc band in search of horses raided a village near the Limlight while my brother happened to be visiting. They caught him and his hosts unaware. The Rohirrim buried his body in a place of honor with their people, though his spirit has surely gone to Mandos.”

You relate this with downcast eyes, tracing over your brother’s name on the cover of the book with your thumb. After a few moments, you look up again, expecting to see Haldir withdrawn from the conversation. You know that many elves are uncomfortable with death, which is an unnatural state for your kind, and there is nothing in your interactions so far to indicate that Haldir will want to continue such a personal discussion. You are surprised once again, however, to find that he is looking at you intently.

“I am deeply sorry,” he says. “Working as I do, I have known many elves who met a similar fate in battle, and it is never easy. My own brothers are a treasure to me, and I cannot imagine losing them. I hope I have not contributed to your suffering by unwittingly bringing up a painful subject.”

You blink back a few tears and smile. Through your sadness, you are moved by the warmth of his response and honored that he was willing to share something personal of himself. “Of course not,” you say. “Talking about my brother is one way to keep him with me. Thank you, Captain.” You reach forward and squeeze his hand. He flinches slightly at the unexpected touch, but then gently returns the squeeze.

“Please,” he says, “call me Haldir.”

*****

After that night, things are different between the two of you. You both speak more often, tentatively at first but then with increasing comfort. You trade stories about old adventures and talk about the joys and frustrations of your daily lives. You discover that he has much to say when he finally feels more at ease. He is even quite funny, with a dry wit that you did not expect but thoroughly enjoy. You walk together in the forest and rest your feet in the waters of the Nimrodel during the day, and in the evenings he asks you to read to him from your book. You happily relate tales of Cirion and Eorl and the coming of the Northmen to Calenardhon as he draws quietly, occasionally interjecting a question or a brief comment.

The time passes quickly and easily, and soon your rotation will be at an end. You realize there is a growing pain in your heart each time you think about your imminent departure. Your old life suddenly feels dull and uninteresting to you now. You do not want to go back to a time without his companionship. You debate whether to say this to him, but you cannot imagine how he might react to such a confession. Paralyzed by uncertainty, the last days of your assignment tick by.

On your final evening, you are preparing for one last opportunity to enjoy what has become your nightly routine. Just as he is about to settle with his notepad and folio, however, he notices your canteen is empty and insists on climbing down to fill it for you. As he reaches the ground and disappears over the riverbank, the wind changes direction and a sudden gust rips across the talan, flinging back the cover of the folio and sending papers flying out in all directions. You cry out in dismay and throw yourself desperately onto the pages whipping around you, seeking to hold them down long enough to gather them safely together.

It is only after you have retrieved all the loose pages and are preparing to neatly stack them that you first look at the drawings themselves and are stunned by what you see: beautiful illustrations of the stories you’ve been reading to him, the words of your brother’s book brought to vivid life in graceful pencil lines and delicate shading. You leaf through the stack in awed amazement only to nearly drop the whole pile again when you turn a page and find an image of yourself as you must look to him each night, sitting by your lantern with your book in your lap. You keep turning pages and find more of yourself…braiding your hair first thing in the morning, standing at the wind screen and scanning the horizon, unlacing your boots at the end of a day. Your breath catches in your throat as you absorb these images. You have never looked more beautiful than you do here, seen through his eyes.

A sudden noise behind you tears your attention from the papers in your hand, and you turn to find Haldir standing there. You are immediately overwhelmed by panic and begin to stammer out an explanation for how you came to be holding his personal things, violating his privacy. “I…the wind…they were blowing away and…”. Hot tears well up in your eyes and are soon spilling down your cheeks, partly from embarrassment at the situation but mostly as the feelings you’ve been keeping pent up threaten to come flooding out all at once. “I was not trying to…I…”. An involuntary sob robs you of the ability to finish your sentence, though you aren’t sure how you would have finished it had you been able.

At the sound of your sob, he moves forward, quickly closing the distance between you. He hesitantly cups a hand under your jaw and uses his thumb to brush a tear from your cheek. “Please do not cry,” he says. “I would not ever see you in pain if it were in my power to prevent it. I am not upset. These drawings were for you, for your book. You were meant to have them, except the last few, which I hoped to keep as a reminder of these days and how happy I have been.” Your eyes snap up to his face, searching for confirmation that you have correctly understood his words.

“You know that I am not much for talking,” he continues. “But I am a very good observer. I know that you see me for who I am, just as I see you. I see all of the ways that you are kind and interesting and intelligent and beautiful. I have no expectation that you return my feelings, and if all I ever have with you are these three weeks then I will cherish the memory of these weeks through all the long ages of my life. But I would….”

Before he can complete his thought, your body reacts on its own impulse, a pure release of elation. You throw your arms around his neck and bury your face in his broad chest, still crying but now with tears of joy. You hear a sharp intake of breath as he processes your reaction, and for a fraction of a moment he stands motionless and silent before breaking into a smile and wrapping you in his arms. You could live in those arms forever, and now perhaps you will.