(no subject)

[of_mirkwood]

It was difficult to determine his date of birth with the shift in calendar from Middle Earth to the Nexus and, furthermore, Legolas had been alive for so long that the years had all become something of a blur. Still, this was the time of year that he usually celebrated his birthday and it felt wrong to let the occasion go without even a passing mention.

Birthdays among elves were normally quiet affairs. Unlike the hobbits who loved to give lavish parties and bestow gifts upon their friends and families and unlike humans who lavished the celebrant with their own gifts, elves used their days of birth to reflect upon the world and how much had changed in it over the long years they had been alive. The older an elf was, the harder it was for he or she to remember what it was like when the world was young and the forced contemplation on a birthday was a good reminder.

When Legolas had left Middle-Earth, it was in the autumn of the world. The world was changing, swiftly, and the age of elves was ending to make way for the age of men. He had left the relative isolation of Mirkwood and embarked on a grand journey with the company of nine, only to get separated at Amon Hen and cast his lot with Gimli and Aragorn. They fought for Gondor and for all men, seeking to end Sauron's reign of terror, and Legolas did not know if they were yet successful - all hinged on the will and heart of a hobbit and his ability to bear the ring.

Not knowing the outcome of the war was something that disturbed him but Legolas had, as of yet, been unable to return to the battlefield. The few times he had made it into Middle-Earth, it was a younger Middle-Earth and the world seemed less troubled. The leaves shone with spring green and not the autumn he knew was the harbinger of war.

So today, he had decided to set up a target in the gardens and loose his arrows into it, wanting to hone his skills even if he could no longer go home and fight for his people and all the peoples of Middle Earth. When he heard the soft footsteps of someone behind him, he did not turn and, instead, merely spoke softly and evenly.

"It is impossible to startle an elf, even one who is far from home. Careful that you do not wander into the path of the arrow, please?"

Comments

[thelostprince]

Archery on Asgard was not considered quite so lofty a skill as the other warring arts, that was for certain, but he considered it valuable. Loki himself was not an archer, though he worked with spear and dagger, and his aim was one of the best on Asgard. It was easy to recognize similar talent, and he noted the natural grace of the archer, the ease in which targets hit home - as if they were drawn to the target, rather than leased towards it. As he considered sparking his war on Earth, naturally he was curious regarding the deadly skills of any acquaintances in the Nexus.

He had not meant to creep; rather he was always somewhat silent of step, though perhaps it was a touch heavier, now, that the Tesseract weighed upon him. "I'll do my best," he said, his voice soft and mostly flat, but with a tint of humour existing in it. Even if he was foolish enough to wander in the way, he was not quite certain an arrow would harm him terribly, even though he wore no armour just then - clad mostly in the wools and soft leather he had taken to wearing when he was at the Nexus for a rest.

"You are no elf of my realm nor any other realm I know," he mused, circling into sight from behind. He stood a few feet away from the elf, respectfully out of the way of the targets.

[heir_of_durin]

He had not thought there to be an elf amongst the habitants of the inn, but when Fili caught sight of him, he knew it not to be any elf, but that of Mirkwood and its dark passages. This was one of the elves who belonged to those forests and his pride flared to see him here, he could not keep himself away, though his anger burned bright for the offense. "I am sure you would prefer to imprison me than shoot me with an arrow," Fili replied. "Given history."

[silverandcold]

Something about the summer heat offers Elsa a greater feeling of safety. Her ice will never be free of danger but its natural enemy, heat, does much to mitigate her nervousness. It even gives her the space to become playful as she sneaks behind Legolas and whips out a hand, sending sliver-spears of ice right into the target.

"Don't plan to."