The Lord of the Rings x Reader Inserts

a secret kept by the stars | legolas greenleaf

request: "Can you write a one shot/imagine of the reader being a Silvan elf and being a child hood friend of Legolas and them falling in love, but having to keep the relationship secret? In retrospect, that sounds really complicated, but it would be great if you could do it :)"a/n: This was based on a request sent in by anon on Tumblr. Apologies for the wait, I've been dealing with so much mental strain these past couple of years due to my disability and such but I feel a little more confident in my writing lately. The reader is implied fem in this one (referred to as a daughter a few times) although I tried to keep it neutral. I hope this is to your liking! <3Elvish (Sindarin) translations are provided in the footer. Gif not mine, found on pinterest with no link to source.This is Legolas maybe a couple centuries before the events of LOTR? And he's 2931 during the War of the Ring (LOTR), so he's not a lovesick tween in this lmao, both are consenting adults. Also, he is SUCH a quiet character, his dialogue is sort of hard to get a tone for in the films because there's so little of it, but I hope he's in character for everyone. <3DO NOT REPOST MY WORK!summary: As a lowly daughter of Legolas' former governess, your developed relationship with the Woodland King's only son and heir is a path forged of risk and painstaking secrecy. warnings: Thranduil being an overbearing father, a bit of angst mingled with the fluffword count: 6.4K (This is why it takes me so long to write and publish. I told myself "hey, just finish this request with about 1K, that's enough! short and sweet." You see how well that worked out, lol).music: Stars Are Singing by Hristo Hristov

Deep within the still air of Mirkwood's dense gloom of vegetation, one might easily forget that spring was fast approaching over the vast regions of Middle-Earth. The only reminders of the changing seasons were the blossoms and colorful weeds pressed into the earth beneath your feet and layered within your foraging basket, seeking the warmth of the sun beneath trees woven with web and the never-fading colors of autumn.

You pitied them as they were, little promises of life eager to feel the hope of the world's light, shunned beneath the shadows of a melancholy forest cursed with the bitterness of her King's endless mourning. Something about their pale colors wilting back into the earth before they'd fully bloomed stirred a sense of dread deep within the hollows of your being.

Such delicate life trampled and suffocated without a chance to thrive.

However, there were places in Mirkwood's vast reach that seemed like sealed capsules of its former glory—crooks and divots in the land that were frozen in time. In one such corner of the forest, toward the northwestern borders, was a glen of trees unlike any other. Their trunks were still wide and strong, yes, but their bark was free of rotted sap and teeming with green moss and furred vines. Their leaves were the only ones that changed with the seasons from within the borders of the wood.

In the center of this small circle of untouched trees was a waterfall that matched their reaching heights, pouring forth from a jagged crag and into a clear pool of water. Running directly from a thin stream branching from the Forest River, it was the only still pond on this side of the palace walls whose waters could be trusted to quench one's thirst and not muddle the mind with dark confusions.

More importantly to you, it was also the only place in your homeland that offered itself as a safe haven for your most dire secrets; the secrets you kept well-guarded within your heart above all else.

Your feet soon left the promises of spring to their end as you scoured the rocks on the edge of the pond. You knelt by the cool entity, dipping your hands beneath its surface to quench the thirst that had accumulated from your solitary hike. The song of insects and toads accompanied the last yearning notes of the late evening songbirds, pleading for the sun's last light to linger upon the crag's private glen. Somewhere above you, a familiar voice added to the divine calls of nature.