20. The Innocence of Brutality [Legolas/Reader]

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THIS IS NOW MADE INTO A LEGOLAS/OC STORY. SEE MY PAGE.

A.N: I've been working a lot on FATE (my long fic...you should check it out) so I haven't been posting many one-shots. BUT FINALLY....here you go! It's a bit different from my usual one-shots but hey I figured I may as well give it a go. This may have a second part depending on how much traction it gets ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Request: none

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: The Reader is Rámaitë Mahtar, a warrior spirit race, and she meets the fellowship on their quest to destroy the ring.

Disclaimer: Any mythology relating to the Rámaitë Mahtar is not canon as I made up Rámaitë Mahtar. Also, all elvish was translated from a translator site—it may not be accurate.

Word count: 15k (yes I went overboard

Warnings: nudity (not sex), mentions of war, mentions of torture, violence fluff

The Innocence of Brutality

The sky had been getting darker and darker as the hours went by, the sun slipping into a restless dream as a storm brewed. Clouds hung deep and gray high above the fellowship while claps of thunder neared them. It was a grumbling and crackling battle of light and dark. With every booming sound, the menacing void loomed closer and closer, electrifying the air with anxiety. It was casting above them at a rapid rate—a rate at which they could not outrun.

Gandalf squinted up at the sky as it churned and flashed again. "Hurry up. We don't have much time."

Legolas and Aragon exchanged a worried look before shifting their gaze to Gandalf, at the front of the group, who was now murmuring to himself. For the past two hours, he had been pushing a fast past—too fast for the hobbits and the exhausted mortals of the group.

They were all acutely aware that it had something to do with the strange storm bubbling above them, but other than that they knew not.

Aragon, who was bringing up the flank with Legolas, leaned in towards the elf. He lowered his voice to a whisper as he spoke in the elvish tongue, not wanting to worry the hobbits who were straggling and struggling before them. "Man- na- ho pent? Tur- cin hear ha? (What is he saying? Can you hear it?)"

Legolas sent a deadpan look to his friend. "Cin attindo nin edhelen tûr? (You doubt my elvish abilities?)"

Aragorn rolled his eyes, his tone dripping with sarcasm and faked irritability. "Tharchol- man an tuin -o ammen who are róvan -o lhaw, nin mellon. (Translate for those of us who are hard of hearing, my friend)."

Legolas' lip tugged slightly upward, like the stem of a flower reaching for the light, as he turned his attention back to Gandalf; however, that grin faded quite quickly as he picked up the words falling from the Maiar's lips.

"What? What is it?" Aragorn hissed, now in the common tongue, for they were far enough behind the others not to be heard.

Legolas shook his head as he lowered his voice. "He is worried. We are moving too slow."

"Too slow? Even I would not pick this pace to escape an oncoming storm."

Legolas pressed his lips into a tight line, tilting his head as he continued to listen to the wizard's muttering. "He thinks this weather is....unnatural."

Aragorn cast a weary and suspicious look up at the ever-darkening shadow upon them. "Sauron?" he whispered.

Legolas frowned. "I do not know. It doesn't necessarily feel...evil."

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