It was any old day in Rivendel, the beautiful summer sun glaring down on each elf, illuminating their pale skin almost, though never burning it, for they were too fair to be harmed by a force of nature, considering their strong connection with mother nature protected them as well.
Azriel Ophelia, Rivendels noble lead archer and most trusted substitute commander twirled an arrow between his frail fingers, admiring the silver tip as it shone and sparkled in the sunlight. Even their arrow tips were polished. The elves really did not miss a chance to be picky and precise, did they?
A soft breeze made Azriels delicate brown hair sweep up slightly, and he closed those ocean blue eyes of his ro embrace the gentle chill. It was nice, on a warm day like this.
He had a class of young elves to train today, specific orders from the king, Thranduil Greenleaf. He wasnt entirely sure why he was so intent on having children aged 8-12 picking up a bow so early on, but he supposed that he himself had been shooting arrows since before he learnt to talk, so he had no place to speak, especially not against the kings orders. By god, he wouldnt risk that. It was true that he harboured some feelings for Thranduil, his majesty was just everything Azriel had always dreamed of in a man. But of course, how could he have such a lover? He was a common elf blessed with skill. That was all. He was no royal, no rich man. He was not worthy of Thranduil, and maybe one day hed come to terms with it and nor crumble with insecurity, but until then, his highness would forever be the tyrant of his late night fantasies..
Back on topic, he would be taking the elf children out into the forest, it was the best place to begin teaching them the basics. Hed already had them once, and taught them the correct means to hold a bow and aim an arrow, it was exhausting, but the distant praise he earned from Thranduil via messenger was highly worth it.
He had been walking down along a path known to be the cities borders, walking between Rivendels city gardens bushes, admiring the gorgeous tulips that bloomed this time of year when Legolas Greenleaf, his friend and son of Thranduil, prince of Rivendel, came running to his side with a look of excitement, like he was pleased to deliver a message. The words that followed made his fragile heart throb. "He is pleased. He is very proud." It was seven words, words that carried the meaning of a million. All he could do was drop the pink tulip hed plucked and cover his face, his cheeks red with blush and joy.
He could only hope the children would be as obedient and well mannered today as they were last time. An elf could dream.
But oh how wrong he was.
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His Faithful Archer.
FanfictionThranduil Greenleaf x Oc, Azriel Ophelia A simple common elf like Azriel, barely associated with his ruler, but when their meetings become more frequent as tension rises in the east, an unexpected enemy brings them together and draws out emotions n...
