𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

The cold wind whispered through the branches of Mirkwood as a silver mist slid slowly around you. You had been wandering alone for hours, trying to find a way out, but the forest felt alive—almost as if it wanted to keep you.

The sudden whistle of an arrow slicing through the air froze you in place.

Something heavy dropped behind you. You spun around, your heart hammering, and saw a shadow-creature—something like an Orc, but twisted into darkness—collapsed at your feet.

Before you could move, a calm, firm voice said:

“Do not move.”

You turned your head, searching for the source—then you saw him.

Legolas dropped gracefully from a high branch, golden hair flowing like liquid light. His blue eyes were sharp as winter steel, but when his gaze fell on you, something in them softened.

“You… human? Why are you wandering this forest alone?”

Still shaken, you forced yourself to speak. “I got lost… I didn’t choose to be here.”

Then he stepped closer—dangerously close.

“How are you still alive? These woods are full of Morgul shadows.”

You gave a nervous half-smile. “I don’t know… maybe luck?”

He fitted another arrow to his bow without looking away. “No. This is not luck. There is something about you I do not understand.”

The whispering of creatures echoed from the fog. Shadows were gathering.

“We must leave,” Legolas said under his breath. “Now.”

Suddenly he grabbed your hand. His touch was warm—shockingly warm compared to the icy air. Your heart stuttered, not from fear but something deeper.

“Run!”

You sprinted beside him through the mist. Arrows flew from his bow one after another, each strike flawless. His movements were almost unreal—silent, swift, like he wasn’t touching the ground at all.

Reaching the riverbank, Legolas placed himself between you and the dark shapes. Within seconds, the creatures retreated, swallowed by the fog.

“As long as I am here,” he said softly, “no harm will come to you.”