LOTR || ⤜𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙩 → [Legolas x OC]

⤜ 13 → curly-haired halflings

Legolas brought a fork to his mouth. Steam curled deliciously around the roasted piece of potato speared through the prongs of the silverware. The aroma of a dozen different seasonings and spices kissed his senses as he took a bite, chewing slowly, listening to the conversation between the ranger and dwarf.

A gentle breeze blew through the forest and into their pavilion, fluttering the fabrics of the tent. Between the gaps, the Prince's eyes caught sight of two figures outside stood several feet away as they conversed. It was the Marchwarden, Legolas realised, and the female beside him—

Gimli suddenly roared with laughter, redirecting Legolas's attention towards his companions. Aragorn clapped the dwarf across the shoulder, chuckling at something he said - something that Legolas had little interest in knowing, for his attention flew back outside again.

Rosa stood with Haldir as they spoke. A moment later she was rolling her eyes as the Marchwarden dramatically arched into a bow, but her face had held mild amusement.

The flaps fluttered shut in the breeze.

Legolas turned towards his plate of food, lifting another bite of steamed vegetables to his mouth. But his fork had only reached halfway before it halted mid-air, and he glanced up to see both man and dwarf staring back at him with provoking grins across their faces.

"What?" asked the elf with growing suspicion.

Gimli immediately went back into his food, feasting on a leg of roast lamb that juiced down the side of his mouth as he took a huge bite. Holding back a grimace at the sight, Legolas turned to Aragorn, who simply said. "I asked you a question."

The elf frowned. He had no recall of any questions being directed to him. But neither had he been listening to begin with.

Then Gimli suddenly threw his head back in laughter. "Poor pointy-eared Princeling," he chortled, using the lamb to point at him. "What's got yer head in a twist? You didn't even hear the question!"

"I heard every word," Legolas lied, lifting the fork to his lips again.

But it was rare to see the Prince of the Woodland Realm show disinterest in a conversation unless something lay heavy on his thoughts. Aragorn had seen that look before – only once – during the War of Erebor when Tauriel had been with him...

The man realised his mistake too late.

Legolas had caught the expression on his face before he could conceal it, and slowly, the elf put down his silverware. Aragorn's eyes widened. Even Gimli had stopped shovelling food into his mouth, and now looked in apprehension between the two.

But whatever havoc was about to occur that night had halted as Legolas heard the fabrics flutter again.

They parted, and Haldir slipped inside, meeting them with a smile. "Le suilon," he greeted, holding the entrance open as Rosa followed in behind him. "It is both an honour and a relief for Lorien to have you again."

Aragorn stood up almost too quickly, and went to embrace the Marchwarden. Legolas had rose from his seat too, but his eyes fell upon the female stood in the doorway, who now peered at Haldir curiously.

She appeared almost a different person to what Legolas remembered. She looked healthier; her damp hair – once matted with dirt and dried blood – fell down her shoulders in soft brown waves, washed and shining in the evening light. Her skin glowed with a golden hue as she quietly took a spot beneath the faelight of the pavilion, and her complexion was flushed with colour now that the sweat and filth had been cleaned away.

A light gauzy dress streamed down to her toes, and draped over her shoulders was a cotton cloak of the same shade. It was enough to conceal her wings – which, Legolas guessed, was likely why she had it adorned.

He walked towards them. "Ni veren le novad, Haldir," he nodded at the Marchwarden who bowed his head in return. Legolas turned to Rosa, but he found she was already looking at him with the same expression she had given Haldir earlier.

"What language is it you speak?" she inquired.

The Prince studied her, and for a moment he could discern only the curiosity in her features as she held his gaze. But then he saw something that made his face tighten, and he replied stiffly. "It is Sindarin. The language of my Forefathers."

She said nothing after that, and only continued to scrutinise the male before her.

A throat cleared, and Rosa turned to see Aragorn offering a soft smile. "You look well," he said as she tilted her head in gratitude. "Come now, why don't you sit in our company? There is plenty to eat." Aragorn gestured to the low table behind him, laden with warm bread, steaming vegetables and roasted meat – and it was currently occupied by a singular Dwarf who had half of the menu piled onto his plate - with the exception of the vegetables, of course. They were too green for his liking.

Gimli waved them over. "Well," Aragorn sighed. "There is plenty to eat still, so long as you don't let Gimli near your plate."

A huff of protest came from the table. She chuckled, and the man gave her an apologetic smile before returning to his seat. Gimli welcomed the girl brightly as she took a spot on the cushioned ground beside them. Both elves joined soon after, and the table fell into light conversation.

The girl, however, did not wait to begin tucking into the plate of golden carrots and potatoes before her. Nor did she hesitate to reach for the basket of bread and break off a piece to toss into her mouth. It was warm and delicious, and just the aroma alone had her mouth watering. She hadn't eaten in a good few hours, so when the arrival of another plate of sizzling food had distracted the dwarf, Aragorn subtly slid the tray of lamb and bread away from Gimli and towards Rosa.

Not even pausing to look up, she devoured her entire plate, then piled on more and began devouring through that too.

A quiet chuckle caused her to pause the ravenous eating and look up.

"What's so funny?" she asked the Marchwarden, whose eyes were alight with amusement.

Haldir laughed. "You eat much like a Hobbit."

"A Hobbit?" She put down the silverware as her face took on an expression of concern. Hobbit... she could only hope they weren't one of the slain creatures on the ground she had seen shortly after her arrival. But it was Aragorn who replied, and Rosa looked across the table as he spoke.

"Barefooted, curly-haired Halflings who dwell in underground houses in the hillsides of the Shire. They eat four times as much as a fully grown man." Aragorn chuckled, then his eyes grew distant. "But brave souls they are. Goodhearted folk, too. And they all secretly embrace a bit of adventure."

Her ears suddenly perked. Adventure - a word she hadn't heard in so long. She remembered how her younger self would often beg on her knees repeatedly for her father to take her on an adventure. Then another, and another – and he would comply every time, unable to resist the plea in his daughter's eyes. She would still do it now, but they had travelled the world many times and the girl began to yearn for a different kind of adventure – one that would take them beyond the ends of their world...

Rosa pulled away from her thoughts and blinked. The entirety of the table was looking at her – even Gimli who had paused licking his plate raw.

Waving away the attention, she grabbed the serving spoon and helped herself to seconds. And slowly, the room returned to its previous chatter.

The girl bit into a steamy potato, sighing as the flavours combined and melted in her mouth. She wanted nothing more than to see her father again. And she would crawl to the ends of the world if he was there, waiting for her.

And if this meant another adventure?

Then so be it. She was quite ready for another one.

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AN: Translations *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*

• Le suilon – I greet you
• Ni veren le novad – it brings me joy to see you

- R 🧡