What The Actual? (LotR x Reader)

A Great Return

~This was the first chapter where I really started from scratch at (with re-writing being a big majority of past edits), and to me, it does not seem as well put together as usual so I offer my most humble apologies. I hope you enjoy, and I will try to do much better in the future. Much love, xoxo

"I knew it!" Gimli proclaimed loudly, only to receive a sharp pointed look from the Elf. They were in the armoury assisting the men of Rohan in preparing for a battle, talking while you and Boromir were above doing who knows what. It was crowded and loud, dim with few lights as men pushed and shoved and prayed, while Legolas sighed to himself, a far off gaze resting on his fair visage. A troubled lad he was, unable to think clearly. Not much could sway the mind of an Elf.

"I do not understand it. I can hardly stand her most of the time, yet I desire her company."

"Aye, that be the paradox of young love--"

"I neither love her, nor am I young," He stated immediately, watching the Dwarf cackle to himself with a frown. He moved out of the way as a few elders passed, and his frown deepened, while the Dwarf let out a humoured sigh, his spirits lifted despite the midst of war. If there was one thing he could look to now that the world seemed to be in shambles, it was the Elf and his immense lack of charm. He decided he was going to give him some good old Dwarrow wisdom, and set his foot on an elevated rack of wooden flails.

"Okay, laddie, well seems ya fancy the girl, can't blame ya--well, actually, it's a terrible decision. She's got the mind of a Dwarf, too good for ya." He scratched at his red beard with straying greys as he thought to himself, leaning against the cave's wall as tall people herded by. He casted a small scowl to their legs. They were really too long.

"I did not choose to feel this way, I cannot stand it." The prince defended, muttering to himself as he handed a sword to young boy distractedly. It must be something that would pass--he couldn't have those feelings towards you, it was ridiculous. You were the most annoying pest to ever graze Middle-Earth. No, it was surely a matter of situation. Time away from you and focus on the battle would get it out of his mind. Perhaps it was just the way you seemed to make the darkest of times just a bit brighter. Like Frodo's sword deep within the Mines. Who would have thought, you being an absolute pest and a distraction during serious matters would be, dare say a good thing? Ridiculous.

Gimli adjusted his belt as he moved out of the way of an injured young man, now too huffing a bit at his crippled state in the damp underground tunnels of the Helm, speaking lowly through squinted eyes. "So, what are ya going to do about it?"

Legolas made a face of sternness, lifting his chin like a petulant child. As old as he claimed to be, he was surely childish at times. It made the Dwarf happy. Something he was better at than the Elf? Maturity.

"I will ignore it. It will pass."

The Dwarf snorted.

"Feelings are not gas, master Elf. No matter how insignificant they seem, they do not just disappear. They do stink quite a load, however." He snickered faintly as he pulled up his waistband, feeling a bit better for the moment. Aragorn was still on everyone's mind, weighing down like iron grief, but the conversation about something other than the ring was welcomed all around. The Elf crossed his arms and stared at the amused Dwarf, trying not to let his lips curl up at the sight of his mirth. He had to admit, seeing the stout sir happy had improved his own mood. A merry Dwarf is always good company.

"There is no other way."

"You could--"

"Absolutely not." Gimli scoffed.

"I didn't even fin--"

"You did not have to, you are predictable." And the Elf moved by him, a smirk rising as he heard the grumbling of the Dwarf behind him.