One Direction as Mythical Creatures:
Zayn Malik as an Elf (Tolkien)
“I just don’t understand how this is all possible,” You say, staring at the beauty of the man before you, though you know now that he’s not really a man, but an elf. His long, dark hair is braided back to reveal the points of his ears, which apparently is dead giveaway for his kind. He’s so similar to a human and yet so different, better even. Looking at him hurt, only because you know that you’ll never find anything as lovely as him ever again. He chuckles at your confusion and glances at you from over his shoulder, “Believe me, it is. Enough rest, we must get back to Rivendell before night fall,” He orders, crouching down beside the waterside to fill his tiny canteen, not for him, but for you. He knows that you’ll be thirsty on the journey. He plans to escort you, a human, back to his homeland in order to properly cater to your wounds. They’re minor really, just a few gashes and possibly a sprain from falling, but he insisted. He felt some sort of undeniable pull towards you, a pull that he’s only heard about in stories of his great Aunt Arwen who was also drawn to a human, a great King. It was strange, but he followed his heart and helped you. Had he not come to your rescue, you’re not sure what state you’d be in at the moment. You stumble a bit as you try to stand, wincing when you put weight on your foot, letting you know that it’s a lot worse than you originally thought. Zayn notices and offers you his arm, which you shyly take ahold of. “Thank you,” You mutter quietly, looking down at your feet so as not to trip and bring him down with you. In response, he nods courteously and smiles at you, his perfect pink lips stretching over his pearly white teeth. “Amin saesa,” He says, speaking a language that you’ve never heard of before, a beautiful one that sounds like a melody rather than words. You stare at him in awe, still confused as to what he just said, but not really caring because he looked and sounded pretty while saying it. After awhile of walking in silence, you decide to spark some sort of conversation with him, hoping to find something in common with the elf that you’re strangely attracted to. “What language was that you were speaking earlier? Elf language?” You ask, tripping over a rock and grabbing onto his shirt in fear of falling. Even though he’s clearly got you, it’s just instinct, and you slowly unleash your death grip on his nice elven outfit. “It’s Elvish, the language of our people. It’s very hard for humans to learn,” He informs with a smirk, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. You can’t help but scoff, feeling like you could easily learn to speak it. It didn’t sound so hard, kind of like French, which of course you failed in school but that’s beside the point. “Teach me, we’ve got time,” You order, earning yourself yet another breathtaking smile from this lovely elven boy as he continues to lead you to Rivendell, the Elven Land.