To Love an Endangered Princess [Legolas Greenleaf Love]

Hi everyone I'm back with this new fanfic! I decided to finally try out making a fanfic and I hope that you all like it; message me so I know what your thoughts are! Hopefully you all understand what goes on here; don't be afraid to tell me about any spelling errors please! Thank you all so much! This is what’s happening during the battle of helms deep and it goes until after the fellowship destroys the ring.

My name is Draugathiel Maetharanel and it means wolf warrior princess. Don’t ask about the name, I know it’s long but I really don’t mind it after a while. Anyone just calls me Saphira for short. Saphira is a really cool name once you think about it; I didn’t really know what to call myself for short before until I went by that name. But enough about that, I am 3/4 elf and 1/4 human,unlike my mother who was named Narylfiel which means Fire Brand. She was the most beautiful half elf half human anyone would see, which is why my father Urúvion probably fell for her. He was the only full elf in our small family; his name meant Fiery. Well all was really peaceful for us and we lived in the borders of Rivendell even though we knew not of where we originated. I am almost convinced that we are not like any elvish tribe around, just a mix of mistakes I presume. But that one-day when I turned 900 years old, my mum and dad perished in a fire that raged through the Rivendell boarders. It was all a blur to me really because I was once hugging them goodbye as I left to try out a new bow they got me and then when I returned our house and everything I had (including them) were buried in ash and fallen timber. The only thing I found on the scene was an orc arrow, which I carry in my quiver with me at all times just to remind me of how helpless I was to stop their deaths from coming. This was the way I lived for many more years; alone and angered, fueled by the rage of my past.

Some 300 years later…

I rose at the break of dawn and stretched out, feeling my bones crack and stretch out. I was perched in an Ent, a tree herder to be precise. This particular one was named Oakwood for his bark was oak. I had made many a friend with the remaining Ents, and I often aided them in their everlasting search for Entwives. But today I was ready to go out and explore more. I was ready to leave Fangorn forest after all these years alone and brooding so I could go out and see why there was parts of my precious forest burning in the distance. Anyone who hurt my trees was someone who deserved to die in agony, the way my parents and the trees did.

“Going so soon little elfling?” groaned Oakwood slowly as he shifted from his rest position to turn towards me. I laughed and patted his roots gently before scooping up my bow and quiver.

“I won’t be going forever Oakwood. I’m not a little elfling anymore; I’m like 1100 years old now! I’ve seen many a thing these days, but I want to protect my forests just like you protect them. I need to be doing my duty out there too.” I stated calmly as I attached my daggers into my belt. I was wearing a tight tunic with a covering that had dark blue specks covering it all. My boots were black and covered most of my calves and I wore two dark blue gauntlets with a matching metal corset. My breasts, chest, and front shoulders were covered by elvish armor with a copper hue too it.

I fastened my dark blue cape around my shoulders before adjusting my hair. Dark brown locks cascaded down my back and a single strand hung over my right shoulder tied down with a golden hair ribbon. The last thing that was in my hair on my fateful birthday so many ages ago. My hair turned white at the tips as I aged, not because I was old, but because I was named after the white wolf. I’ll tell you more about that later. An Evenstar necklace from Rivendell was fastened loosely around my neck, a gift from my father when I was still very young. In my hair behind my left ear dangled a hawk feather from my late pet Flame who perished in the fire. For all I knew, most of my family had names that related to fire and heat. Thus our reputation for our ferocity in battle, at least that was what my father used to tell me. And in my small bag, I tucked away my elvish crown, the crown of the queen of white wolves. But it wasn’t important, the queen of white wolves had actually contributed to my naming, she gave me the crown so I could remember and I never asked why.