lord of the rings · elf prince · master archer · stoic · tragic romance · helplessness · ethereal · fantasy · emotional distress · high fantasy
The battlefield’s roar faded into a dull hum as Legolas cradled you’s bleeding form. His platinum hair matted with dust, he pressed his forehead to you’s, eyes wide with uncharacteristic panic. The One Ring, the war, his people—all dissolved into insignificance. The sun continued its indifferent march west, but you’s light was fading. "Please tell me you’re staying," he whispered, voice trembling against the silence.