A lean hand reached across a pale brow, in an effort to block a slight amount of the sun's rays, to clear vision. Clear gray eyes scanned the lands in front of them, looking for a sign of movement – he was looking for a certain someone. A grin formed across pale pink lips when something was finally spotted, and heels gently spurred into the side of Lagortâl, a mighty horse. Dust stirred, leaves flew from the ground, and spirits became high as Lagortâl broke into a run, spotting the same thing his rider did.
"Näurolas!" The elf could ear his name being shouted, even at such a far distance. He broke into a run, his long blond hair blowing in the winds as he advanced. Despite the weight of a quiver full of arrows, a sword of great elven-craft – light, yet still bulky compared to his normal fare of knives, and a pack heavy enough to rival most others', Näurolas' gait was swift, and as agile as it could possibly be. The voice which had shouted his name belonged to his brother, whom he had not seen in ten years.
"Legolas!" he shouted in response, even as the pair drew nearer, his heart in high spirits. It was only moments until the duo were near enough for regular speech.
"Well met, brother! I see your speed has not been slowed with age?" Legolas grinned, while dismounting his horse.
"Nay, it seems it hasn't. Perhaps I ran faster than Lagortâl!" The horse snorted, and Näurolas chuckled, bringing a hand up to caress the mighty neck of the beast. "But I jest. It has been long since I have seen you, Legolas. You have grown!"
"I have," Legolas replied.
"Yes, it has been far too long. Not once did I think I would miss our Father's realm once I entered Imladris, until I fully realized the absence of trees…" Näurolas looked then to the distant growth of forest, and smiled inwardly. "And the absence of much else I loved."
"Ah, but tell me, brother! How fares Lord Elrond? And…"
"You care not for Elrond," Näurolas nearly bellowed at the blush this caused in his youngest brother. "You care to hear of his Ellodan and Elrohir. Do you still hold them upon their high flet?"
"Flet? There is no flet fit to hold them upon! Ah, but the battles they have seen! And the…" Legolas could have gone on for centuries, but he stopped when his brother sent him a strange look. It was a glance which was used seldom between them, only when they were parted and then reunited. "Do you see something of interest?" he asked suddenly, nearly startling Näurolas.
"Yes…" Näurolas reached forward and took one of Legolas' braids between his fingers, eyeing it closely. It was one of two hanging from each temple, which, as any elf knew, told, briefly, of events when looked upon. With age, the braids became more intricate, symbolizing many things. Näurolas' own were riddled with tales that, to mortal eyes, would be delicate knots and twists, but to any elf, could be deciphered with time. For he had lived many centuries, and, if one wished, the tale in the knots could be labeled an 'abridged version,' else his braids would reach his feet!
"Already I have been absent from many things," Näurolas began, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Show me these so-called archery skills you have now, for last I saw, you were dangerous with the bow only in your lack of aim!" Legolas blushed furiously, and his brother chuckled.
"What will you have me take aim after? There is not much in this land to target." Ah, how Legolas had missed his brother's playful banter! In response, Näurolas did not answer, he simply reached into his heavy pack and procured a large, red apple.
"This," he whispered, and summoning his strength, threw the fruit high into the air. Reacting quickly, swifter than mortal eyes could see, Legolas readied his bow, notched an arrow, and fired with no hesitation. Sharp elven eyes could easily see that the apple was skewered.
"Well done brother!" Näurolas' voice was filled with approval and he looked at his young sibling with a hint of awe. "Yes, indeed you have grown. Indeed! It seems I can no longer pester you about your skills!" Näurolas laughed, and the sound was like music to his younger brother. "Come, let us go! I am anxious to see the forest again. Or perhaps ride. I have, after all, traveled quite far!"
No speech issued from Legolas, only a shrill whistle which resembled the song of a bird. From his grazing Lagortâl looked to the elves, before reluctantly joining them. Näurolas, looking quite disappointed, looked to Legolas. "You have not brought a steed for your tired old brother?" He smiled at the impish look in Legolas' eyes.
"Age has not slowed your speed, but it must have clouded your ears! Listen!"
"Age has slowed nothing in me, young one! I heard her hoof beats from afar, I did not wish to spoil your childish antics!" Näurolas replied, concealing his delight at the familiar, and long-missed sound of the approaching horse, for he had seen the mare born and loved her as he would love a dear friend. The white mare whinnied happily when she spotted Näurolas and approached with no hesitation. He softly whispered her name and many greetings, his hand absently stroking her mane.
"Come, brother!" Legolas exclaimed, as he nimbly jumped onto his own great steed. Näurolas followed suit and they began to ride slowly. Already it had been revealed that Näurolas had missed much in ten years, and the pair were eager to share their stories.