Blood of the Covenant [ Legolas x Fem!Reader ]

Chapter Fifteen | Eyes Ergo Envy

"You will never be forgotten. You've teased out our dearest emotions.

You will understand one day, in your twilight, old thoughts return, in great waves of nostalgia."

- Inspired by Hawkeye Gough, Dark Souls

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"I genuinely believe disappearing is the best option here," Quelaag says, much to [Y/n]'s displeasure, who groans and nearly tears her own hair out.

"Will you stop talking? You only serve to be a nuisance!" She growls, pacing in her guest bedroom, throwing random things into her travel chest. She's expected to depart tomorrow, but couldn't think of what to pack. What could I possibly pack? A damn shield for when Thranduil decides to murk me as soon as I step foot in Mirkwood? Oh god. Don't even think about it!

"Murk-wood."

"BE QUIET!" [Y/n] yells. "I need to think. I need to think!" She sighs, sitting down and rubbing her eyes furiously.

"You need to drink some tea, preferably laced with a sleeping potion," Quelaag muses, and [Y/n] just sighed.

"I bet Legolas is already braiding his hair for the trip now," she grumbles, as she rested her head in her hand, looking at the pristine wood flooring.

"When is he not? He caters to that hair more than he caters for you," Quelaag rolled her eyes mentally, and [Y/n] felt her ears heat up at the snide comment.

"Ah, don't say such things." She smiles softly, imagining him braiding his hair in front of the mirror.

A faint grunt comes from outside her door, as well as a telltale huffing and puffing, definitely belonging to a fiery-haired dwarf [Y/n] has grown to adore. Three hard knocks sound from her door, and she gets up with a sigh, unsure whether she even wants to talk to anyone right now.

She opens the door to Gimli, who looked at her with surprise from the quick response.

"Oh! Good mornin', lass." He huffs and waddles in, wearing heavy armour for some reason. [Y/n] quirks a brow at this.

"Are we going to battle?" She asks, frowning at the prospect of another fight. Gimli raises his brows and looks past her, shaking his head vigorously, his beard shaking with him.

"Nay, I wear these for the elves!" He says. "Legolas wants me to go with him to Millwood-"

"Mirkwood,"

"Mirkwood! That's the name. He wants me to go with him and meet his father — a terrible decision! To bring a Dwarf to an Elf-lords kingdom and dangerous forest, I fear the worst!" He shudders. "My kin have told me stories of this king of Mirkwood," he says, and [Y/n] listens intently, curious about Legolas's father.

"Yes? And what have they said?" She asks, sitting down on one of the comforters. He trods down to a chair and plops down, wiping his head.

"Terrible things. A selfish elf who only wants to lock dwarves up till they are nothing but dust and bones!" He grunts, rubbing his temples with a tense brow. "The elf is young, even if he has an age that exceeds my own comprehension," he sighs. "For that, he is also naive. I'm sure you understand what I speak of. He asked the same thing of you, has he not?" He looks up, his eyes glimmering with desperation.

Seems you're not the only one freaking out. Quelaag says.

"You would be right about that..." she nods meekly, sitting beside him tersely. "I... don't have the best history with his father,"