Blood of the Covenant [ Legolas x Fem!Reader ]

Chapter Ten 𐮛 Cerebration

For once, she slept well that night.

𐮛 Minas Tirith 𐮛

"The City of Kings..." Gandalf uttered, beholding the majestic fortress before them. [Y/n]'s lips fell apart and a sharp gasp left them as she saw the white megastructure gleam in the sun in pure blinding white. Gandalf grinned at her awe, and tutted Shadowfax forward — she had almost forgotten to follow after him from how enchanted she was with the city, but she quickly tutted Butter, trusting her to follow Gandalf. She glued her stare onto the White City, imagining how much craftsmanship had to go into every detail of the structures, and how long it must have taken for the race of men to achieve such a task.

"The Kings of old truly were mighty..." she revered, focusing back on steering Butter, who chuffed in response to her comment. She giggled, feeling like it was engaging her in conversation.

They approached the tall gates, and were let in shortly after Gandalf spoke to the guards that stood securely above their heads, reaching heights she was afraid to even comprehend. She's stood on mountains and cliffs before, but never did it dawn on her how long of a drop it would be if you were to simply slip. The towers looked like they leant over her as she passed them and rode into the streets, so to dismiss her clear fear of heights, she took to studying the people that glared at them with the same wariness the people of Edoras had for them when they first arrived to Meduseld — like they were something to be feared. She gulped, pulling her hood over her head to keep their curiosities at bay, hoping their attention would turn to Gandalf instead.

Usually, it would be Legolas that people gawk at in first appearances, given how extraordinary his looks were, but since he's absent, not even Gandalf's impressive guise was enough to draw eyes away from her. She remembered how he would comment on her hair and ears, and it would always bring a blush to her cheeks even if they were mean natured. It was oddly gratifying for a man as fair as him to take interest in her features, negatively or not. Sighing, she pinched herself for thinking about him again, and tried to distract herself with the sights of the city again, particularly at the watch towers and markets they passed. If there was ever time, she would like to go touring around this place, to admire the scenes of the bustling city alone.

They sped their horses to the very top of Minas Tirith, where a lone tree grew in the middle of a vast courtyard. Everything looked so small from such heights, it was like peering into a painting — it looked so surreal to be able to minuscule lands into a tiny square in your vision, where blots of trees and faded silhouettes of mountains the size of your fingernail stood in the distance. It only reminded her of how far they've come from home, from the place she started.

Following Gandalf, she listened to him order Pippin around, practically telling him to keep his mouth shut while he spoke to the Lord. She held back a snicker, seeing how defeated Pippin looked after he had finished... but then, Gandalf turned to [Y/n].

"The same goes for you, [Y/n]. Not a word." He stuck a finger in her face, narrowing his eyes as she nodded silently. She grumbled to herself, but complied either way, sharing the same grim face as Pippin, looking identical in that moment.

The heavy doors opened with a low groan and the sound of stone grafting against stone, revealing a grand throne room with pillars of black marble standing tall on each side of the room, making her feel tiny. She followed after Gandalf hesitantly, catching a glimpse of the man sitting on his throne, his head down and his clothes black as night. His head was covered in a head of grey tussles that looked like they hadn't been brushed in days, and when the man lifted his gaze, she saw cold blue eyes glare at them, accompanied by red bags underneath.

"Hail Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor," Gandalf addressed the man, but he doesn't look up completely.

[Y/n] didn't feel the need to say anything during their meeting with the steward, even when the tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. She kept silent and watchful as the scene unfolded before her; Pippin has pledged himself to Lord Denethor, and Gandalf begrudgingly leaving the mans presence.