Picture above made by me
⚠️ No warnings for this chapter tho feel free to tell me if I end to add some ⚠️
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~Previously~This man's words despite being organised in a way that made it seem he was being respectful, were communicated in a tone that appeared to completely disrespect those around him. His utterance of 'my Lady' was considerably patronising and made Arwen slightly flinch uncomfortably.
Seeing this, Legolas' fists clenched, head tilted as his eyes stared directly into that man's, menacing like an Eagle identifying prey and sharp like the venom of a snake. Anger flared inside of him.
~
3rd person PoV:Flowers are the treasure of the green lands, an existence moulded so preciously, so pure. They are not the gems that are concealed deep within mountains whose beauty is only formed and cherished once exposed. Flowers are perceived commonly in meadows, gardens, forests and so on, you do not need to look far to notice their petals, clothed with colours that rather than mutes under a cast shadow only becomes more attractive, more vibrant. A feature of existence constructed with delicately coloured tones.
A lifetime can be lived without seeing the treasures of the mountains, childhood can pass without laying hands on money. Yet the charm of flowers is all around but observed less. Perhaps it is simply because they are all around is why they are appreciated less, respected less, perhaps because they do not shine or twinkle under the sun that they have lost their value. Treasure can be stolen and profited, yet what expense did a flower plucked from its stem bere? The potential to deteriorate in a week and shrivel under the sun? Crime, power and shelter are centred around the rarity of particular objects and once that object is obtained, it can be manipulated to their advantage to fulfil certain needs. If a single flower among millions was proposed to sell, who would buy it? It was like exchanging money for a singular grain of rice, what value did this grain of rice wield that made it so special, that made it stand out from the rest, that gave it worth that the others failed to possess?
Six months ago Legolas would say he did not know. Six months ago, Legolas would have said that every flower was equal, that every grain of rice was equal to the last. Six months ago Legolas would have said that he did not understand why gems had more value over flowers, that being able to see beauty at your feet was better than destroying the earth for it.
It was a shame that he had grown to realise why this was over something he had formerly admired.
It was a shame to think this had all occurred over a flower.
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>6 months ago<
"Oi elf won't you bid farewell to ya friend? Ya know if you stand there any longer you might turn into one of those flowers!" A voice called.
"But look!..." A gracious voice responded, smooth and delicate like honey dripping from a spoon, its texture thick with raw enthusiasm and genuine curiosity. With its soft decline it reached the ears of gardeners surrounding, the delicate tone blended with indications of awe satisfying their ears as they watered and planted with soil-dirtied hands.
Slim fingertips eased between a flower and a particular azure petal, delicate and cautious like the first snowflake gliding from the clouds on a winter night. The pressure of pinching on both sides of a pale blue petal turned the tips of his fingers white, appearing like a snowdrop on a blue canvas. The only way to tell the difference being the gentle arch of his fingernail against his pale skin.
This elf was careful not to damage the rest of the plant as he tugged the singular petal, his actions gentle and slow, hesitant but attentive as he extracted it from its position. Moving the petal so it became level with his eyes, the prince examined its soft exterior that parallelled its smooth surface. Minuscule beads of moisture painted his skin from where the rim of the bell-shaped petal had been detached, leaving the perimeter of his fingertip decorated with a subtle glitter that shone under the glow of the sun.
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Fiksi Penggemar'Legolas son of the great eleven king Thranduil and heir to the throne of the woodland realm, seemed to have everything that any sane elf, human or even dwarf would wish for: He had strength that captivated and inspired those around him, a personali...