Isengard – 3019 T.A.
Of all he'd seen of Elves, Samwise Gamgee thought that it'd be the day the taps ran dry at the Green Dragon that he'd actually understand them.
To be sure, in some ways they were just like the tales he'd heard from Mr. Bilbo since he was a young Hobbit in his teens. But he'd also learned things he'd never reckoned on before meeting Gildor all those months ago.
Take Mr. Legolas for starters. Sam reckoned that there wasn't one Elf alive more or less Elvish than he. Always merry and quick with a song or story or joke, he was, but at the same time moving silent and graceful as you please. Running over the snow on the mountain, and laughing when there wasn't naught amusing about the situation to anyone else in the company, that was Mr. Legolas. For all the world, you would never know he was kin to Mr. Bilbo's terrible Elven-king, he was so light-hearted, and no two ways about it, there were no airs with him at all, particularly around Gimli, and if that wasn't odd behaviour for an Elf, Sam didn't know what was.
But there were Elves and then there were Elves, as Sam liked to say, and while Mr. Legolas was certainly Elvish enough in some regards, he was nothing compared to the likes of Lord Elrond, or Lady Galadriel, or even Lord Celeborn, who, along with Gandalf, talked for hours among themselves and gave off an air of being above the rest of the company, although they were pleasant enough to all. They were the ones who you felt knew enough songs and stories that they could fill whole days in telling them if they had a mind to, but were always troubled with something or the other. When you looked right in their eyes, though he could never manage it for more than a moment, you felt a kind of sadness, as if they had seen everything and that was too much by half. They were the ones who had a sort of presence that you could feel even if you couldn't see or hear them – the air around them seemed to be thick with something that caused everything they bent their minds to to sit up and take notice. Mr. Legolas, he liked to listen to the trees talk, but the Lords and Lady, they seemed to be the reason the trees were talking.
Councils being ended, farewells said, and leave taken of the rest of the company, the Hobbits continued on to the north. But even as they approached his beloved Shire, Sam couldn't help but feel that things weren't near as green than he remembered, as if a bit of the magic had gone from ordinary trees and plants.
Author's Note: Many thanks to Laurenke1 for beta reading, and to her and Deandra for reviewing. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Cheers! and hope you enjoyed it. CV