𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐟

𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧

"No," you answered uncertainly. Yes. "Am man?" Why?

The Elf tilted his head, appearing to also be slightly confused. You were not known to him, but your Sindarin was good, and your respect for the Elves apparent. "Im Haldir o Lorien. Tolo ar nin." I am Haldir of Lorien. Come with me.

"What are they saying?" Gimli grumbled. "They could be trading in our lives for theirs."

You turned to the Dwarf. "Really, Gimli? Really?"

He had the decency to look ashamed, and the Fellowship followed Haldir as you were bid.

- - -

You gazed around in awe at the starlit world of Lorien - the unique beauty only the Elves could use so well.

Haldir brought you all to the bottom of a set of stairs, and backed away. You looked at the Elves around you out of the corner of your eye, all still holding onto their bows with a coiled wariness.

Suddenly, instinct instructed you to look up, and as you did, the purest light you had ever seen streamed from the top of the stairs, and before it walked the two most beautiful Elves you had ever seen (with the exception of Legolas, maybe, not that you would admit that).

The first was a man who you presumed to be Celeborn, the father-in-law of Elrond. He seemed stern and strong, but also gracious and of goodwill.

But all of his brilliance was outshone by far by the woman next to him, who looked like Luthien reincarnate. She radiated benevolence and beauty, and something about her made Y/N trust her instantly.

When Y/N turned to the side she struggled to hold back a giggle, because every other member of the Fellowship was completely and utterly entranced by her, except for Aragorn, who had put his head in one of his hands, knowing the entrancing nature of ellith (elf maids).

"Your journey has been long and difficult," Galadriel said, her voice as smooth as the song of a lute. "But here is a place where you can rest."

"Le fael, hiril vuin o Lorien," you said quietly. You are generous, beloved lady of Lorien.

She smiled at you. "Tell me, my brave heroes, where is the tenth member of your Fellowship, Mithrandir? I have desired to speak with him."

You inhaled sharply, not wishing to say it aloud. But, by your side, Legolas tilted his head upwards, speaking to Galadriel.

"He fell in Moria. By the hand of a Balrog of Morgoth." His clear voice rang through the peace of Lothlorien, the evil name bringing a chill to the air.

Celeborn bowed his head. "This is miserable news you bring, Legolas Thranduilion."

"But do not let this make you downhearted," Galadriel spoke again. "For our appreciation of your mission and our welcome to you is not lessened."

She indicated that you would follow her, gliding off with Celeborn at her side.

- - -

Ethereal singing filled the air - Quenyan and Sindarin mixed together in one sad, haunting melody.

"A lament to Gandalf," Legolas told the rest of the Fellowship, his hunting clothes replaced by beautiful white garments. "They mourn for him."

He sat next to you on a cushioned bench under a swaying tree. "You look beautiful, Y/N."

You blushed. "Perhaps the clothes of Lothlorien truly possess the wondrous magic of their wearers."

Galadriel had generously gifted the Fellowship clothing and you loved the dress you wore, in its regal white, hanging from your body in perfect swirls of lace.

Legolas shook his head. "Y/N, I've seen you in dresses of incredible beauty, covered in your own blood, and wearing nothing but a slip and my travelling cloak." You blushed at the reminder. "I don't think it's the clothing that is beautiful. It's you."

"I don't think I've ever received a sweeter compliment in my life," you admitted, and hesitantly shifted towards Legolas until your legs touched. To your relief, he didn't move away.

"Then, clearly the right people have not been complimenting you," Legolas said, with a nervous smile.

Staring into his eyes, so close to him, you could not move away, and you didn't want to. He leaned in, and you could feel his warm breath on your face, like a pleasant summer's breeze. You also moved towards him, and your noses were touching when someone cried:

"Hiril Y/N! E tengwar!" Lady Y/N! A letter!

You tore away from Legolas, blushing and unable to look him in the eye, as you took the letter from the Lorien messenger.

From the Dunedain?

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