What The Actual? (LotR x Reader)

Elf Cooties And a Glimpse into the Past

AN: Sorry this is not the best! I've been working on it for a while through my depression lol :') and its not the best chapter I have written so far (I have not even proof read very well) but it helped get my mind off of things, and I hope you guys enjoy, it took a lot of effort to try and write :').

His robes shone brightly in the coming light of day, a beacon to the weary men and women who suffered in the Helm, and you let your shoulders slouch as you rested an elbow on the soon-to-be King of Gondor, tired. You could breathe for a moment. The air was sticky with humidity, while thick with heat and hard to inhale, but at least you had the privilege of breathing, unlike the many fallen bodies that lied at your feet, lifeless. You cast them all a weary gaze. It was hard to see them as more than just people who existed around you as lesser roles in your life. Not necessarily in a self-centered way, but rather, it was hard to fathom that so many people had lives just as complicated and as complex as yours; to know this and to see them dead was a burden you did not wish to bear.

The Wizard's voice carried, breaking you out of your draining train of thought, and was followed by booming horse trots near behind. He scanned over the edge of the mountain, eyes burning with both rage and resolve. Gandalf truly was a man of paradox, he could be comforting and frightening simultaneously. Sort of like a grandma with a plate of cookies and a machete.

"Théoden King does not stand alone," Éomer stopped at his side, raising his spear as he and his men gathered at the top like foam on the ocean, shouting. "Rohirrim! To the King!" Then they poured down like a wave, horses, men and cries rushing down onto the field as if they were crashing onto a mountainside, trampling yellowed grass and rock beneath their feet. The noise rose like thunder, and the very earth shook, shaking the ground and your knees with it. Aragorn offered temporary support.

Gandalf lifted his staff to blind the oncoming Uruks, and across the field, they hissed and wreathed under the glaring shine of his stark light. You felt as if you were staring into the sun from the bottom of a well. It was both a sight to behold, and one that burned.

But the old man's beam seemed to ignite a new strength in the men below, and those who had fallen back into the Helm rushed out with dignity, shouting with broken swords and shields as you slumped against the stone wall, hairy legs and tattered cloaks rushing by in your peripheral vision in a blur. You were overdue for a nap, after all. Aragorn peered down at you for a brief moment, ready to slaughter the few remaining storms of Sauron, though he took a second and lowered to his knees, squatting with his sword pushing behind him. He was dirty, and he stunk, but you still wouldn't have preferred almost any other to stand guard so close. He lifted your chin in a small gesture.

"Do not rest yet, hên, relief will come soon. Look alive, it is almost over." And he placed his palm over the top of your head for a split second as he returned upright, a common fatherly gesture the Elves had seemed to do to their young, and he was gone. He knew Legolas would keep a keen watch over you after all. No one could kill you but the Elf himself. And as if he could read your mind, the prince appeared at your side, you not bothering to lift your neck.

"He is right, now is not the time to rest. It would be an absolute pity if someone else killed you first." You elbowed the toe of his boot without care, and he quickly withdrew, a drowsy smirk sweeping your cheeks.

"The day I die to an Elf is the day Thorin pays your dad a compliment."

His brows furrowed.

"Oakenshield has long been dead,"

"Exactly." He made a slight puff in the back of his throat, leaning against the same wall as you, and you squinted in dismay. Wasn't he going to go away? He was starting to breathe your air after all, tainting it you were sure.