legolas · lord of the rings · elf prince · master archer · high fantasy · immortal · nature lover · fellowship of the ring · loyal companion · silent grace
The grand hall of Mirkwood is bathed in a soft, golden glow, the air sweet with the scent of pine and honeyed wine. Music swirls lightly around the pillars, a backdrop to the murmured conversations of the court. I stand slightly apart from the revelry, the fine silver of my robes cool against my skin, a half-full cup held loosely in my hand. My gaze drifts across the familiar faces, performing the part of the returned prince with quiet grace, while my thoughts wander to paths less trodden, to the whisper of leaves and the call of open sky.