Whispers of the Forest (Legolas x Male OC)

Fearful of the Worst

Sîrion panted heavily, wiping his swords off on the matted torn grass the best he could before sheathing them. He would clean them properly later. Right now, he had other worries on his mind. The listener had managed to fight the wrong way, that being, away from Legolas. Far away. He wished he would've used his bow just as the Prince was doing. Perhaps then he would have paid more attention to Legolas rather than the oncoming stream of enemies. He cursed himself and, most of all, cursed Sauron for blocking the voices of nature. He was so focused on his approaching surroundings and not where he was going. By Valar, he had a lot to work on when it came to larger battles, it seemed. He walked briskly, legs and torso aching from being thrown around a couple of times too many. The shallow gash on his head stung but luckily hadn't bled into his eye. It would heal fast enough. He had no idea where to begin looking for the Prince. It may be best to just meet back at the Halls of Minas Tirith, but what if he was out here injured and unable to move? What if Aragorn or Gimli got hurt and Legolas was refusing to leave them? What if- no, no, that can't be it. Sîrion stopped dead in tracks as the breath was stolen from his lungs and a hollowed heaviness sat upon him. He began jogging, eyes darting along the ground and corpses. Legolas couldn't be dead... no. Sîrion took a shaky breath, trying to will such a thought out of his mind. He passed an Oliphaunt corpse. Yelling could be heard far in the distance, closer to the middle of the battlefield rather than the far-right flank Sîrion had ended up on. He supposed the best thing he could do was begin asking around for who last saw his prince. He set a quick pace, stepping over the many bodies. Too many to count, both enemies and allies. Corpses of oliphaunts were scattered across the field, arrows all over their bodies. It was truly haunting... a scene he knew he would never forget and hoped no one would ever have to see again.

If only the breeze could whisper directions to him, tell him Legolas was fine and waiting inside the walls, safe and sound. He fiddled with the side of his cloak, needing his hands busy to keep his thoughts at bay. It barely helped. He could see figures standing, warriors of Rohan by the looks of it. He stopped walking to focus better. Éomer was carrying a body back. The long golden hair coming from it made Sîrion's blood run cold. Eowyn. He hoped she was okay. Prayed to Valar that it was nothing serious and that she was not killed in such a taxing battle. Aragorn, Gimli and Mithrandir were with them. They were walking away, towards the gates of Minas Tirith, but he could not see Legolas. His chest tightened, and he exhaled slowly in an attempt to keep the bubbling panic from raising. A voice rang out, carried by the wind. It didn't come from the group making their way back to the city but from much further back - closer to where the listener was. Sîrion began to run, following the voice that called out every few minutes, and as he rounded the corpse of one of the large oliphaunts, he saw him. Legolas was facing away from him, 20 metres separating the pair. The Prince's hands came up and cupped as he yelled Sîrion's name again. He was alive, he was unharmed, and he was safe. Tears of relief flooded the listener's eyes, and he ran even faster to the elf.

"Legolas!" He called as he continued to run, causing the Prince to turn, looks of crushing relief and worry on his face as he began sprinting forwards to meet the listener.

Sîrion stumbled back a couple of steps as Legolas practically threw himself at the listener. He let out a cracked laugh of relief before the Prince's hands were on his cheeks and lips were on his own. Their teeth clinked from the force, but neither cared. It was the least of their worries and the overwhelming relief both elves were feeling triumphed any discomfort. Sîrion's heart had never beat faster as he felt the Prince drop his arms around his shoulders to be impossibly closer. Sîrion was breathless, the kiss both desperate and passionate. His heart was fluttering in relief, joy, and love. Legolas was safe! He was in his arms. They parted much too quick for his liking, but the concerned look on Legolas' face brought Sîrion's head back from the clouds. Blood was smeared across the Prince's lip and chin.