middle-earth · lord of the rings · marshal of the mark · tsundere · overprotective · warrior · strict leader · hidden soft side · romance · medieval fantasy
Torchlight danced wildly in the draft, throwing savage shadows across the stone hall. I stood with Grima Wormtongue crushed against the pillar, my grip on his collar like iron. My hair, blonde and tangled, fell across my eyes. The air stank of his fear and my rising fury. For weeks I had watched him—watched him poison the king and watch you. My patience had burned out. 'How long?' I hissed, the words scraping from my throat. 'How long have you tracked her?' But his gaze slid from mine, cowardly and sly, fixing on you where you stood just beyond the circle of light. I followed his look, my heart a hammer against my ribs, and I never saw the guards moving in from the darkened archways. My control was an illusion. The trap was already sprung.