Bound By Blood {Legolas x Reader}

Chapter One - The Prancing Pony & The Morgul Blade

The world has changed.

I feel it in the water.
I feel it in the earth.
I smell it in the air.

Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.
It began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dwarf-Lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. One to the Witches, the gifted and powerful magic users of Middle-Earth. And eight rings were gifted to the race of Men, who above all else desire power. For within these rings was bound the strength and the will to govern each race. But they were all of them deceived, for another ring was made. Deep in the land of Mordor, in the Fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged a master ring, and into this ring he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life.

One ring to rule them all.

One by one, the free lands of Middle-Earth fell to the power of the Ring, but there were some who resisted. A last alliance of men, elves, and witches marched against the armies of Mordor, and on the very slopes of Mount Doom, they fought for the freedom of Middle-Earth. Victory was near, but the power of the ring could not be undone. It was in this moment, when all hope had faded, that Isildur, son of the king, took up his father's sword.

Sauron, enemy of the free peoples of Middle-Earth, was defeated. The Ring passed to Isildur, who had this one chance to destroy evil forever, but the hearts of men are easily corrupted. And the ring of power has a will of its own. It betrayed Isildur, to his death.

And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. And for two and a half thousand years, the ring passed out of all knowledge. Until, when chance came, it ensnared another bearer.

It came to the creature Gollum, who took it deep into the tunnels of the Misty Mountains. And there it consumed him. The ring gave to Gollum unnatural long life. For five hundred years it poisoned his mind, and in the gloom of Gollum's cave, it waited. Darkness crept back into the forests of the world. Rumour grew of a shadow in the East, whispers of a nameless fear, and the Ring of Power perceived its time had come. It abandoned Gollum, but then something happened that the Ring did not intend. It was picked up by the most unlikely creature imaginable: a hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire.

For the time will soon come when hobbits will shape the fortunes of all.

A heavy cold rain slammed down onto the hood of Adriel's drenched cloak as she strode towards the local tavern. The sound of the aged signs squealing hinges made her look up, squinting at the blackened night sky; looking to the wooden pony shaped sign as it rocked back and forth in the storm's wrathful wind.

The Prancing Pony Inn.

Aragorn brushed past her in a hurry to get away from the cold rain's lashing. Adriel pulled her deep hood even farther over her face as she looked away from the sign and followed the Ranger inside. It had been a long while since they had stayed in a town,not that Adriel minded, she had grown accustomed to living in the wild. The stench of sweaty men and ale seemed to slap the witch across the face as she entered the stingy building, loud laughing and yelling made her sensitive ears ring.

"Strider," a nearby man mumbled from where he drunkenly stumbled onto a barstool, watching as the tall Ranger made his way towards the back of the inn tavern.

"Wraith," another man whispered, his wide eyes staring up to Adriel as she moved through the crowd, silently trailing after Aragorn. She hated the name that men in the villages they often patrolled had long ago given her.
A low growl escaped from between her lips, she never was fond of the village's men. They were wary of the Rangers, they always had been; their prying eyes always watching. Aragorn suddenly stopped and turned towards her, Adriel raised a brow from under her hood.