Legolas Greenleaf stood in the large, open room, surrounded by his Elven
kin. Music and the breathy singing of Elven voices filtered through the
room, accompanied by the murmur of voices in conversation. Legolas
Greenleaf stood in the center of the room, wearing a white tunic and white
leggings, his silver crown perched upon his high forehead, and long blond
hair.
He was surrounded by more of his kin, males and females, all trying to talk to him at once; all trying to congratulate him. It was his homecoming festivities, a celebration of his return from his journey with the Fellowship. His father, King Thrandiel, had ordered the party to commence on the same night he had arrived home. He was still tired from his journey here from Gondor, but his father had insisted on a proper welcome.
Legolas smiled politely at the elves gathered around him, knowing they only wanted to show their appreciation for him, but also knowing that he needed a breath of air. With a few well-placed, polite comments, Legolas managed to detangle himself from his group of followers and strode out of the room through a large doorway at the end of the room, pushing the sheer, flowing fabrics out of his way, and exiting the room onto a balcony.
He breathed in the deep forest air, and was immediately calmed. His Elven ears listened to the calming sounds of the forest; trees whispering to each other, grasses stirring in the slight breeze, animals breathing and the swooshing of birds' wings. Suddenly, he heard a stirring in the woods to his right; it was not an animal noise, but that of an elf, perhaps.
He moved to that end of the balcony and looked down. He gasped at the sight that met his eyes. It was an Elven maiden, lithe and thin, illuminated by the pale moonlight. The beams of light from the pale moon shown on her light red hair, which was straight, and hung down to her knees, shimmering in the light. It flowed around her well-formed body, over the curve of her breasts, around the slight swell of her hips.
She wore a flowing pale gray dress, which hugged her every curve, and fell softly to the ground. The neckline fell low on her chest, the slightest swell of her breasts peeking out. She had a beautiful face, high cheekbones, soft, full lips, and large eyes. But her face seemed to have a haunted look to it, and this intrigued Legolas.
As he moved forward to see her better, the light of the moon went behind a small cloud, and he saw a frown on the face of the women. She raised her hand and a pale green glow filled it, illuminating the area around her. Legolas took a step back in surprise, but held in a gasp, aware that she might hear him. "A mage..." he thought to himself, confused. He stepped forward once more, drawn to the maiden.
She leaned forward and her hand brushed the thin blades of grass. At the slightest touch of her hand, small white flowers began to spring from the ground, slowing growing towards her. Legolas watched in awe as a blanket of flowers appeared around the maiden, and she lay down upon it. He wished to watch her forever, but more than that, he wished to be with her; to look into her eyes, to touch her pale, soft skin.
He was awakened from his reverie by the sound of his name being called inside. Reluctantly, he drew away from the side of the balcony, and walked back into the room to find the one who had called for him.
He was surrounded by more of his kin, males and females, all trying to talk to him at once; all trying to congratulate him. It was his homecoming festivities, a celebration of his return from his journey with the Fellowship. His father, King Thrandiel, had ordered the party to commence on the same night he had arrived home. He was still tired from his journey here from Gondor, but his father had insisted on a proper welcome.
Legolas smiled politely at the elves gathered around him, knowing they only wanted to show their appreciation for him, but also knowing that he needed a breath of air. With a few well-placed, polite comments, Legolas managed to detangle himself from his group of followers and strode out of the room through a large doorway at the end of the room, pushing the sheer, flowing fabrics out of his way, and exiting the room onto a balcony.
He breathed in the deep forest air, and was immediately calmed. His Elven ears listened to the calming sounds of the forest; trees whispering to each other, grasses stirring in the slight breeze, animals breathing and the swooshing of birds' wings. Suddenly, he heard a stirring in the woods to his right; it was not an animal noise, but that of an elf, perhaps.
He moved to that end of the balcony and looked down. He gasped at the sight that met his eyes. It was an Elven maiden, lithe and thin, illuminated by the pale moonlight. The beams of light from the pale moon shown on her light red hair, which was straight, and hung down to her knees, shimmering in the light. It flowed around her well-formed body, over the curve of her breasts, around the slight swell of her hips.
She wore a flowing pale gray dress, which hugged her every curve, and fell softly to the ground. The neckline fell low on her chest, the slightest swell of her breasts peeking out. She had a beautiful face, high cheekbones, soft, full lips, and large eyes. But her face seemed to have a haunted look to it, and this intrigued Legolas.
As he moved forward to see her better, the light of the moon went behind a small cloud, and he saw a frown on the face of the women. She raised her hand and a pale green glow filled it, illuminating the area around her. Legolas took a step back in surprise, but held in a gasp, aware that she might hear him. "A mage..." he thought to himself, confused. He stepped forward once more, drawn to the maiden.
She leaned forward and her hand brushed the thin blades of grass. At the slightest touch of her hand, small white flowers began to spring from the ground, slowing growing towards her. Legolas watched in awe as a blanket of flowers appeared around the maiden, and she lay down upon it. He wished to watch her forever, but more than that, he wished to be with her; to look into her eyes, to touch her pale, soft skin.
He was awakened from his reverie by the sound of his name being called inside. Reluctantly, he drew away from the side of the balcony, and walked back into the room to find the one who had called for him.