Legolas's pov
Of course. The one man that Terryn warned me of not messing with sits at me table, smiling at me creepily.
“Good evening,” I say simply as I take another bite of my meal. It is hard to shake the uneasy feeling that is radiating through me when his dark eyes meet mine from underneath the cowl of his cloak.
“It won’t be much longer.” He responds and my heart rate instantly rises.
“May I ask your name, sir?” I ask, trying to keep my cool. The man pulls down the cowl of his cloak to reveal an elf with dusky narrow eyes, tightened thick eyebrows, a menacingly curled lip and several deep scars across his heavily featured face.
“I’m no one to be trifled with, Mirkwood scum.” He hisses. My hand instinctively slides down to my knife sheathed on my belt. The shady elf sees the movement and laughs coldly.
“Don’t even think about it.” He orders gruffly before slamming his own knife into the table, pinning my sleeve into the wood. “What are you doing here you son of a bitch?” He yells in my face, spraying little droplets of saliva in my face, causing me to flinch.
“I’m eating a meal and resting for the night.” I tell him, looking around to see the best way to get out of the situation. I see Terryn looking at us with sheer terror and confusion. The elf chuckles again.
“You’ll be getting no help here you bastard.” He comments, removing the knife from the table and pressing it close to my arm. “What is your relationship with the moron Thranduil? Is he still the jack ass he’s always been?” He demands. Anger spreads inside of me like a wildfire.
“You shut the hell up!” I scream in his face as I stand up quickly and race to the door. My hand in on the doorknob when I hear a whish and then a sharp pain flares through my neck and then darkness.
YOU ARE READING
The Prince of Mirkwood (a Legolas fan fiction)
FanfictionI watch in horror, as the arrow lodges itself into Legolas's chest. He grunts slightly and then falls to the ground, unmoving. I feel a tear form in my eye. "NO!" I shriek.
