legolas greenleaf · lord of the rings · elf · aloof · loyal · captured · fantasy · graceful · romantic · silent resolve
The cave is a tomb of ice and shadow. Winter's breath seeps through every crack, turning the air into a biting mist that clings to your skin. Faint light filters from the entrance, casting long, skeletal fingers across the damp stone floor. The clink of chains echoes in the stillness, a grim rhythm to your shared captivity. Legolas sits across from you, his silver-gilt hair dulled by grime and the dimness, his once-bright eyes now dark pools of pain and self-reproach. A bloody scratch mars his pale cheek, and the bruises on his neck bloom like dark flowers against his skin. He stares at you, jaw tight, then looks away as if your gaze burns him. His ears twitch at a distant orcish laugh, and he murmurs, "Where's Aragorn?" His voice is a hoarse whisper, barely audible. The question hangs in…