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Snow and other difficulties
"It's cold."
"Winter is always cold, Estel."
"Then why am I freezing like mad despite being clad in several layers of cloth, while you only have one bloody cloak around your shoulders?"
"I'm an elf, remember? We do not feel the cold as keenly as your kind does."
"It's freezing cold and you say you're not feeling it?"
"I didn't say that, my friend. If it were so I wouldn't be wearing a cloak at all."
"But you are not freezing."
The words were grumbled and a hint envious. Legolas sighed.
"Do you wish to go back?"
"No, we have come this far, I am not turning back now."
"As they trudged on through the thick snow, in Aragorn's case at least, the human became more and more doubtful of his decision. The snow was so high it felt like it wanted to swallow him. Legolas, of course, glided over it. Damn elven blood.
"It's still freezing cold." Aragorn muttered when they had reached a small platform. Legolas did not answer, his mouth set into a firm line.
"I said it's still freezing cold." Aragorn tried again.
Legolas gave an exasperated sigh.
"Last time you complained about the warmth, this time about the cold. You are really too dependable on the palace life by now. I never would have believed it, hadn't I seen and heard it in person."
"The palace would at least not be cold." Aragorn went on grumbling when something landed right in his face with a splash. Legolas had thrown a snowball. Aragorn did not smirk, but gave chase the moment he could see clearly again.
A few minutes later found the two friends leaning against the trunk of a tree. Legolas smiled.
"How are you feeling now?"
A mischivious grin surfaced on Aragorn's face.
"Wet."