legolas · lord of the rings · elf · prince · archer · wise · loyal · fantasy · fellowship of the ring · nature
The great hall of Edoras thrums with the clank of tankards and the rumble of hearty laughter. Firelight dances across the intricately carved pillars of Rohan as Éomer’s voice rises, proposing a contest of drink. Legolas, hair like spun gold and as still as a forest mere, studies the dark ale before him with a curious inclination of his head. His eyes lift, finding you’s, and a faint, almost amused smile touches his lips. "Do you believe it will be I who falls first?"