#Aragorn: The joke doesn't translate.

[entishramblings]

The Innocence of Brutality Pt.2 [Legolas/F!Reader]

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7

A.N: so here is part two! please let me know what you think!

Request: none

Pairing: Legolas X Fem!Reader

Summary: The Reader is Rámaitë Mahtar, a warrior spirit race, and she meets the fellowship on their quest to destroy the ring. 

Disclaimer: Any mythology relating to the Rámaitë Mahtar is not canon as I made up Rámaitë Mahtar. Also, all elvish was translated from a translator site—it may not be accurate.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: nudity (not sex), mentions of war, mentions of torture, violence, fluff

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

The Innocence of Brutality Masterlist

"So," Pippin began the next morning. "Who's gonna wake her?"

The fellowship stood in a line in front of (Y/N). Various expressions of worry, concern, and irritation upon their brows.

"Legolas," Aragorn stated simply.

"Why me?"

"She trusts you. She told you her name."

The elf sent his friend a glare, for that excuse was becoming annoying, but regardless he cautiously approached the winged woman.

He squatted down in front of her. "(Y/N)," he stated simply.

No movement.

"(Y/N)," he repeated.

No movement.

"It is morning. You must wake."

He lifted his hand. He knew he was going to regret this. He gently tapped her foot.

Instantly, those brilliant, curious, (e/c) eyes flung open.

Within seconds, Legolas was pinned facefirst onto the ground with her on top of him.

Yup. He regretted it.

Each member of the fellowship drew their weapons, well, except the hobbits who ducked behind their friends.

Gasping for breath, Legolas spoke. "(Y/N), please."

Instantly, her grip upon him loosened. "Legolas," she stated simply, no inflection upon her tone. With that, she stood up and began walking towards the embers of last night's fire, her wings knocking into Aragorn and Boromir. She didn't seem to even care that their weapons were drawn. Instead, she plopped down upon the log once more.

Legolas groaned as he rolled not his back, looking up at the sky.

The rest of the fellowship disbursed to gather their belongings, but Aragorn stood above the elf grinning. "Got the wind knocked out of ya, Princeling. Looks like you finally met someone who can put you on your ass."

"Shut it," the elf groaned.

Aragorn chuckled as he moved to help his friend up.

As Legolas was pulled onto his feet, he let his eyes drift to (Y/N). "Aragorn," he began. "I think she has what most men have when they see war."

"A murderous skill set?" he joked.

Legolas shook his head. "No, no. A haunted mind."

Aragorn raised his brow in question.

"Her wrists. Last night, I saw them covered in bruising. And her behavior is strange."

"Well, she is not of this world. Of course, it is strange."

Legolas sighed. "I know that, but strange in the sense of fearful...in a way. Jumping at touch as if she expects something worse. Turning at sounds that are a bit too quickly. And those damn eyes...She is always examining everything. I think she was tortured wherever she was before this."

Aragorn inhaled slowly. "Maybe there was some truth to what Gandalf said. Maybe she is dangerous."

Legolas' brows pulled downward, his eyes drifting to the wizard. "Whatever he knows, he doesn't want to share it."

The group was ready to continue their journey after a quick breakfast. So, they set off once again. The winged woman seemed to just follow along as if she had nothing better to do, which was entirely possible considering her circumstances.

As they went along for the three days, (Y/N) continued her curiosity.

She stayed relatively near Legolas or the hobbits, but she would only ask questions when she was beside the elf. Her questions, however, were her pointing to random objects as she walked and simply saying one word: "What."

He would answer.

First, (Y/N) pointed to a little creek. "What," she said.

He raised his brows, unsure at first, kinda lost aimlessly in his mind. "Hmm?"

She frowned at his lack of attention. She tugged on his sleeve and pointed once again. "What."

"A creek or river," he said. "It's water. It's what we drink."

She squinted. "Creek. River."

He nodded.

"Why men?"

He frowned, not understanding.

"Why men in river?"

Legolas squinted at the water. He saw no men. But, he saw a flash of orange. Then another. Fish. He suppressed a smile. (Y/N) had likely learned from their conversations that they were men. She probably generalized that to every living being.

"No. That is a fish."

"Ahh. A fish."

He nodded. "Yes."

The second example of her learning took place when a cluster of birds flew above them.

Immediately, that precious giggle spilled from her mouth. She grabbed Legolas' sleeve as she pointed to them. "Birds!" she recalled from their first conversation.

He smiled back.

The next couple of weeks consisted of this but progressing rather quickly. In no time, she could speak in almost full sentences. She had learned by listening, watching, and trying. Not to mention Legolas' help. It was rather scary, to some, Legolas assumed. But he loved it. He loved how she wanted to learn. He loved how intelligent she was—how intelligent she must be in order to learn so much so quickly. He could tell, however, that Gandalf didn't like it. The wizard sent the elf looks of discontent whenever he would teach her new words...or just in general. The elf didn't know why it was all such a bad thing. She seemed...harmless...almost.

That 'harmless' ideology soon changed though.

The fellowship had been crossing through an open plane with little coverage, and it was here when they were ambushed by a party of orcs. Not many, just under twenty, but enough to have them worried.

As soon as the first orc had been spotted, someone shouted. It was undetermined who did yell the warning, but that mattered not. They immediately surrounded the hobbits and pulled out their blades. It was too late to evade the beasts.

As the orcs then started yelling and snarling, the fellowship began making the circle tighter, ready to defend. It was at this time that (Y/N) was roughly shoved into the circle with the hobbits. And she didn't necessarily like it.

Those damn curious eyes of hers were wide as she absorbed every detail around them. She took in the terrain, the creatures before them, and the fear of her companions. She was trying to figure out what exactly was happening. She didn't understand, well, not at first, but as soon as Legolas fired the first arrow and the orcs began to charge, she knew.

The men she traveled with yelled battle cries as they too began swinging their weapons at the orcs.

She pushed past Legolas, determination upon her brow.

"(Y/N)! Get back!" Aragorn called out.

Instantly, Legolas' head snapped in her direction. He had not realized she slipped past him. Usually, he was pretty good at noticing her wearabouts—which wasn't necessarily hard because she was always hitting shit, and people, with her damn wings.

"(Y/N)!" he shouted.

But it mattered not.

The woman began to advance upon the orcs, her wingspan wide and held proud—despite the still healing injury.

As the first one neared her, she smacked it with her wing. It went flying backward about fifteen paces. It probably would have gone further if it hadn't knocked into two other orcs and took them down, but alas, shit happens. Quite unfortunate for the vile beasts. And even more so when the three of them stayed in that heap upon the soil–not even a groan sounding.

Another orc came at her. (Y/N) reached both her hands forward when he was near and she ripped the axe from him—as well as his arms. She threw the entire wood and flesh medley to the ground, ignoring the screaming coming from the creature. However, her palms were wrapped around his neck in seconds. A loud snapping sound then echoed in the open area.

It was brutal.

The orcs, now seeing her as a threat, started to target her. She, however, began to tear them apart—quite literally.

The next one that got close...well, his heart went missing. If you could even call it that. (Y/N) reached her hand through his chest and tore it out. She then squeezed it in her palm until it splattered everywhere.

Another orc approached her and she slammed her wing into it, knocking it to the ground. She then brought down the feathery mass and impaled the orc with its end. Black blood spluttered and sprayed.

Legolas' lips parted as he witnessed this. He quickly sliced the throat of an orc before turning back to look at (Y/N).

He had touched those wings. They had felt soft and comforting, not sharp and ready to impale through flesh and bone.

By the Valar–

At this point, almost every orc was charging her, and the fellowship was picking off the contorted, bloody, and barely alive bodies that she sent flying their way. Really though, driving their blades through the mangled orcs was a mercy at this point. It wasn't that they didn't want to help with all the fighting. It was that they didn't need to help.

(Y/N) bashed and broke every single one of those evil beasts. She used her whole body as a weapon. She needed no sword or knife. No bow or axe. She used her hands, feet, nails, teeth, and wings. She pulled them apart, ripping limb after limb clean off.

The whole thing was finished in a matter of minutes.

It was....horrifying.

(Y/N) turned back to face the fellowship, who stood frozen in awe, fear, disgust, surprise—every emotion possible, really—as they stared at her.

Coated in black, oozing blood, her form was buried in the death and decay she caused. She, however, was smiling with the liquid dripping from her mouth and skin.

She approached them, stepping on corpse after corpse. And with each step, she chanted one word. "Dead, dead, dead," she said, her feet squishing into puddles of body parts. "And more dead, dead, dead!"

She, still grinning, walked right up to Frodo and patted his head thrice. "Safe," she stated simply, happily.

With that, she turned on her heel and continued in their previous direction.

Parted lips of shock and apprehension were worn on every fellowship member's face, but still, the men began to follow her.

Aragorn leaned towards Legolas. "Not thinking she is so innocent anymore, are you?" The Ranger walked on, not waiting to hear Legolas' response. Regardless, he didn't have one.

As Gandalf huffed past the elf, bumping into him slightly, Legolas was jolted back to reality.

"Gandalf," he called out, jogging to catch up with the wizard. As his pace fell in step with the old man, he spoke again. "Gandalf, I–I believe you."

"Stupid elf," he mumbled. "You should have believed me from the start."

"Mithranduil," he said. "I want to know. I want to know what you won't tell us."

The wizard raised a wiery brow at him.

"Who is she? How is she—how is she—"

"So innocent yet so brutal?" he interjected, finishing Legolas' sentence.

Legolas nodded.

Gandalf exhaled through his nose. "You really want to know, elfling?"

"Yes. I do.

Gandalf huffed as they continued walking. "The Rámaite Mahtar came before me–before the Maiar. As I said before, there was a world before ours, not complete and not long-lived, but it existed. The Valar created them, the winged warriors, to destroy an evil that clung to the lands. And they did but at a great cost. They destroyed everything. They burned the world entirely–all good, all evil. They see no difference. They just killed. They killed every living thing until there was nothing but ashes."

Legolas frowned. "What happened to them?"

Gandalf sent a wary look (Y/N)'s way. "The Valar imprisoned them. Morgoth as their jailer."

"What? Why?"

"Why?!" Gandalf snapped. "Did you not just hear what I told you?"

"I did, Mithrandiul. I did," he replied calmly. "I just...I don't understand. Why didn't the Valar teach them? I mean, look at (Y/N), she can learn. She's learning so quickly!"

"She is learning our language and our behavior, but not the difference between good and evil. That she cannot learn. She only can kill."

The blue-eyed elf looked down. "I do not believe what you speak. I think there is more to her than just warrior."

Gandalf only huffed in disagreement. "That is because you haven't yet heard the worst of it."

"The worst of it?"

"The Rámaite Mahtar that was the most bloodthirsty, cruel, and vicious. The one inscribed into stone as barbaric and heinous. The one most feared. She was called (Y/N)."

Legolas stopped in his tracks, the words hitting him like that of an orc blow.

Gandalf still moved ahead, but the elf did not.

He stood, as still as a deer, trying to process the information.

It couldn't be so...It couldn't.

"Gandalf," Legolas called out weakly. "What–what would have happened if Sauron found her first?"

The wizard turned back to him, sending a warning look.

Legolas didn't need him to speak an answer. He knew what the wizard thought. He thought that they would soon find out. He thought that Sauron would take their winged warrior and she would instantly comply—that she would instantly kill them.

The elven Prince let his gaze drift to (Y/N), the most vicious of the Rámaite Mahtar. She was currently skipping with the hobbits, holding their hands and swinging their arms. Their laughter and giggles rippled through the air, drifting back to Legolas. Her blood-covered smile shown just as radiantly as her wings.

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7

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[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

have a scene where Grima and Eomer are bickering in Rohirric (i.e. my bad attempt at anglo-saxon) and Boromir is stood there like “please do this is Westron so I can hear the hot gossip?? some? respect please??” 

Grima: It’s not gossip; we’re just insulting each other.  Boromir: Literally. Don’t. Care.