This was requested by Lavos2525. And I want to thank KaylaSeraYorth for her help with this.
Hope this is ok

Emma
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S/T = Skin Tone

No POV

Legolas rode his white equine mount to the edge of the Mirkwood forest, slowing his steed to a stop at the wall of trees. Finally, he was home. After over 60 years of being away from the Elvenking's Halls, he was home. His icy blue eyes scanned the trees before him. Although 60 years wasn't much to an elf, he had missed his home terribly.

He slid off his steed's saddle, landing on the ground lightly. He looked up at the trees one more time before turning to his mount. The grey mare stood before him, gnawing on her bit. She had carried him to and from Rohan into battle twice and had made it out alive. He was sad to see her go, but he had to do what he must.

He removed her tack and stroked her face, whispering to her of his thanks. Finally, he stood back and shouldered his bag. "Lerta, mellon nin " Be free, my friend.

The mare bowed her head at him and trotted off, nickering in her wake. Legolas smiled to himself and walked towards the trees. But then he heard something. Three grunting, grumbling, growling voices, speaking in a twisted tongue. One he had heard before.

Orcs had made their way to Mirkwood

(Y/N)'s POV

I walked through the pale moonlight that shone down through the green canopy of Mirkwood. A cool night breeze wove through my hair as I walked down the narrow path that ran alongside the mighty trees of the forest. I lifted the front of my knee-length skirt as my trousered legs stepped over a log. I was travelling south from Dale. Walking through the outskirts of Mirkwood was a normal part of my journey, as it provides cover from the elements.

I'm a wandering traveller that makes money by playing music in towns. And having heard that Mordor has fallen, I thought that maybe the nearby towns could do with some cheery music from my flute. I'm not the only one with that thought. I ran into some travellers in Dale, and they had similar plans. To gather the story of how Mordor fell was one of their aims.

Often enough I hear a rustling in the trees and vegetation around me and the odd time I run into elves, but as long as I don't trouble them, they don't trouble me. But this time, the sounds I was hearing were too heavy to be an elf. I could hear heavy footsteps treading on vegetation and the loud clanking of armour. Among the clanking and crunching, I heard heavy breathing and a lot of grumbling.

I spun around, trying to see who else might be in the forest. I grabbed my dagger from my belt, holding it in front of me in defence. I heard a growl come from behind me before hearing rushed footsteps come my way. I sprinted off the path, dumping my travelling bag to make myself lighter. I heard three sets of heavy, jogging footsteps behind me. I glanced back. I saw three dark, armoured figures running after me, one was bigger and burlier than the others.

I kept running. My breathing was unbalanced as I was panicking as I ran. And so my legs became heavy soon after the chase began. Not to mention the uneven terrain of the forest floor, making it harder to keep my strides smooth.

Then I heard a sword being drawn. The unmistakable sound of metal rasping against its scabbard. I spun around to see my attackers as they came to a stop. The moonlight showed me their skin tones weren't human or elf-like. The tallest one had black skin with purple blotches around his mouth and cheeks. His lips were pierced together. He almost looked like he was about to bellow at a misbehaving child. One of the smaller ones was an ugly shade of green, it was almost a vomit-like shade. He didn't have much of a nose, and his teeth jutted out awfully. The smallest one was a stone shade of grey. He had huge ears and the most striking set of red eyes. All of them had very thin, wiry, dry hair and pointed teeth.

They had to be orcs. They couldn't be anything else, there was no doubt about it.

The big one stepped forward. His silver eyes scanned me briefly. In his hand was a blunt, jagged sword. I bolted, but he caught my arm and ripped the dagger from my hand with ease. As he tore it from me, he cut my cheek with it and locked his arm around me, pressing my dagger against my neck.

"Squeal and I'll gut you," he said in a hushed tone. His fowl breath attacked my nostrils. I shuddered in his grip.

The cold dagger nipped at my throat, my cheek throbbed from the freshly made cut. Hot blood trickled down my (S/T) face. The green-faced orc stalked over to me and licked his ugly lips with a disgusting slurping sound. And spoke to the burly black-face one that held me. I do not understand what he said, but the big guy growled and snarled something back, making the green one flinch.

My breath is shaky as the three orcs talk amongst themselves. The small grey one with red eyes and huge pointy ears seemed to be a peacekeeper while the big black one and the green one were arguing about their intentions for me.

Amid it all, there was little petrified me. My legs were shaking beneath me with fear as the orcs argued. I looked around frantically, hoping there was some elf nearby. The orcs continued to argue, not noticing a figure hopping from tree to tree in our direction.

It had to be an elf; no other creature in Middle-earth could move so elegantly through the trees. The figure stopped a few dozen feet away, standing steadily on a branch before pulling out a bow and pulling back an arrow.

I looked back down, focusing on the arguing orcs so the elven figure wouldn't be spotted. They then loosed their arrow, shooting the grey one with huge ears. He collapsed to the ground before the green one had an arrow embedded in his chest. He fell on top of his orc brother; the light fading from his yellow eyes as he fell.

I stumbled back as the biggest orc threw me and my dagger to the ground. The figure jumped from the tree and rushed towards the orc. All I could see was their boots from my place on the ground. The black orc stood in a half hunched position and readied himself as the elf drew their sword. The elf and orc exchanged a few blows before I saw a sliver of silver protrude from the orc's back. He removed the sword from the orc's body, and he fell to his knees. He released a dying groan as he collapsed onto his chest.

I look up at my rescuer. He was a male elf with dark eyebrows and the most luscious of blond locks. He sheathed his sword, his icy blue eyes never leaving the dead orcs' bodies. I flushed a little. He was handsome. He wore a grey tunic, with a brown short-sleeved jacket, completed with black leggings, leather bracers and boots along with a green cloak, held on by a green leaf pin.

"Are you all right?" He asked, bending down to pick up my dagger. I barely heard his words because his beauty distracted me.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm all right," I force out.

The elf handed me back my dagger and helped me to my feet. "Are you sure? That wound doesn't look great." He eyed my wound and touched my chin with his thumb, tilting my face so he could get a better look at it. His hand was soft against my face. No man would ever have such soft skin. I didn't respond, I only looked at him. He lowered his hand and tore off a piece of his grey tunic and held it against the wound, soaking up my warm blood. "Hold that and come with me," were his only words.

We walked back towards the trail. As we neared the path, he bent down to pick up something. It was my travelling bag. He shouldered the bag as I reached for it. "I'm Legolas," he introduced himself we stepped back onto it, our boots touching the dry dirt.

"I'm (Y/N)," I replied, trying to reach for the bag again.

"It's fine. So, what brings a human into Mirkwood?" He asked, shifting the bag better onto his shoulder. I explained the Legolas my reason behind entering the woods and that I would do it often on my travels. He then explained that he had come from Mordor and that he had been travelling with the Fellowship of the Ring. I was a little surprised. But didn't ask questions. Not yet.

He led me down some twisting, winding paths that led to tunnel in stone. We entered, it was big enough for one person to walk through comfortably, and then the tunnel widened a little and we emerged in a warm light.

"Welcome to the Elvenking's Halls," said Legolas A few armoured elves stood along the wider part of the tunnel. We then travelled down the rest of the tunnel and emerged in an enormous hall. It was bare, apart from some purple and red tapestries with gold elvish writing. Legolas led me through the halls, I felt the blood from the wound ticking onto my hand. Along the way, Legolas ran into a red-haired female elf. She seemed delighted to see Legolas again. They talked to each other in their language. I saw Legolas shake his head and gesture to me. The female elf looked at me and I smiled awkwardly. She asked him something, and this time he nodded and spoke in a grateful tone. The female elf nodded once more and passed us, smiling at me as I clutched my cheek.

Legolas led me up to a large bedroom. There was a large double bed, writing desk and a few bows and arrows held on the wall. The only light in the room was the moonlight that passed through the window and its net curtain. The double bed was on a level two steps higher than the rest of the room. There was a child's bow on the bed. Legolas looked around the room slowly, taking it all in. He placed his and my bags on the ground at the end of the bed.

"Sit on the bed, and I'll get what I need to heal you," Legolas said, gesturing to his bed. I walked over to the bed, sitting on it slowly, seeping into the mattress.

Legolas came back with some sphagnum moss and some warm water to clean out the wound. As he tended to the wound, he sang softly in Elvish. I noticed the pain fading. He gently poked around the wound as he cleaned it. He dipped the moss into the bowl of water, turning the water a pink colour. I hadn't realised that we had locked eyes during the whole procedure. Eventually, I broke the silence.

"So, what was it like, travelling with the Fellowship?"

He smiled, pressing the moss into the water. His smile made my heart melt. Why did he have to be so beautiful?

"It wasn't all that bad, we just got split into three groups for most of the journey... And we lost a man..." He looked away at the wavering net curtain by the open balcony door.

I tilted my head in sympathy, but also telling him I wanted to know more. He looked at me and saw my expression. He drew in a silent breath.

Legolas told me about how he left Mirkwood to find a Ranger called Strider, who is now King Aragorn of Gondor. He told me about how he met the other members of the Fellowship in Rivendale. He explained how Saruoman tracked them and how they had thought they had lost Gandalf. How difficult it had been to keep going after losing him. He told me about how Boromir died and how Samwise and Frodo separated from the group; he talked about finding Pippin and Merry and how Gandalf had become a White Wizard. He talks about how they took down Isengard and Saruman after travelling to Rohan. He worked through the events of Gondor and their battle at Mordor before finding Frodo and taking him to Gondor to recover. And gave a brief rundown of Aragorn's coronation.

As he recounted his tale, I felt his pride, hurt and anger as my own. I took his hand in mine when he got to Gandalf's presumed death. It really had hit him hard because elves are immortal, they don't die. He mentioned how he couldn't believe that Gandalf was gone and was confused about it all. All the while he looked into my eyes and we edged closer to each other.

He sounded hurt when he mentioned parting with the rest of the Fellowship after the coronation. He seemed to be closer to Gimli than the rest, which I found funny because of what I've heard about Thranduil, Legolas' father, he's not keen on dwarves, and dwarves aren't keen on elves.

It took hours for him to recount his full tale. It took so long that the first few rays of sunlight beamed through the windows, into the room before he had finished.

Legolas rose to his feet. He seemed ashamed to have told me his account. I reached for his hand.

"Thank you, Legolas. It was an honour to hear the story from someone who was there," I said, gratitude clinging to the words. He smiled softly and looked out the window.

"I'll try to get some food for you, make yourself at home. I may not be back for a while." I gave him a questioning look.

"I have an audience with the king," he said, walking out of the room and softly closing the door behind him.