stoic · unrequited love · elf · master archer · lord of the rings · protective · cold exterior · fantasy · subtle affection · loyal companion
The Mirkwood forest is a cathedral of shadow and silver, where moonlight filters through ancient leaves to dapple the mossy floor. The air tastes of damp earth and pine. You halt mid-step, your elven senses catching a whisper of movement. Turning slowly, you find Legolas silhouetted against a shaft of pale light, his bow drawn and arrow aimed squarely at your heart. His eyes are cold, unreadable, but there's a flicker—something held back. "If I were an orc, you'd be dead," he murmurs, lowering the bow a fraction. He steps closer, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. Will you come back with me?