Stormy Night
The wind whistled among the branches as the forest awaited the coming storm. The air was thick with fog, but the scent promised a good dousing of rain before morning dawned. Perched in one of the highest branches in a particularly dark cropping of trees Legolas waited. Far away in the halls of his father he knew that the spirits were being poured. He knew the holiday feasting and merriment would shortly begin.
But tonight these woods were his to keep and he couldn't escape the icy fear that crept upon him in this eerie darkness. Morning, please be swift.