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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?"

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Another smile, this one improved and reaching to her eyes, and Elsa nods. "Yeah, I'm starting to learn that."

"Would you like to learn how to draw a bow? Archery is a fine way to pass the time," Legolas said, stepping to the side a bit if Elsa wanted to take a look at the target he had set up. "I could teach you. It requires focus and patience, so I think you will do well."

"I've never tried," Elsa says. Swallowing a little, she fights away the memory of crossbows, their bolts trapped in last minute spikes of ice. This is different, she tells herself.

"It must take lots of focus."

"Plenty, which is why I think you will be excellent at it," he said, handing her the bow. "Feel the heft and weight of it. This is a longbow, meant for a man taller and heavier than you, but I should be able to help you draw it."

"You saying I'm not strong enough?" There's a hint of a tease in her voice; Elsa's not strong enough yet.

But maybe she will be.

"Perhaps not yet. Give it a try," Legolas encouraged gently. "And I will be here to aid you should you need it. I already think you have a keen eye and will have no trouble finding a target. I just fear you are too slight to draw my bow. I will make you another more suited to your strength and height."

Elsa's grip is certain and determined, even though her arms immediately ache from the effort. If she can pull back the string, she will be proud of herself.

"I'll try."

Legolas stepped back to give her room. "I have confidence in you." He had the sense that not many had praised Elsa for her gifts and, instead, told them to hide herself and hide them away. He did not think that was right, to lock away someone so beautiful and not allow her to bloom.

Elsa laughs softly, the sound of chips of ice rolling over one another, and looses the arrow. It arcs unimpressively from the bow into the ground a few feet away, but Elsa still smiles. "I did it...sort of."

"Sort of," he agreed. "I think you will find it much easier when I craft you a bow that fits your height and strength. Once you have something with a proper fit, drawing will become easier. I see you have an eye for the aim of it, at least, which is the hardest part to teach."

"I look forward to it." Already, she knows her arm will be sore and she presses her other hand over the muscle, letting coldness roll over the sore spot.

"May I escort you to a meal, at least?"

Legolas had never been merely friends with a woman before and it was difficult to navigate. He had tried to court a few times here and there but he had always felt a calling for something beyond his native Mirkwood. He still felt that call, always, but there were things within the Nexus that held him there, Elsa among them.

Since coming of age, she's had many such offers and chosen to decline all of them. Now it's different; she doesn't need to fear herself or Legolas' safety. It makes her almost...giddy.

"That would be wonderful."

"I am all yours, then," Legolas promised, offering his arm to her. He knew that Elsa was wary of touching others because of her gifts but he hoped that she could trust him. Legolas did not fear anything from Elsa and did not think her ice would harm him irreparably.

With a shy hesitation, Elsa raises her hand and lays it against the proffered arm, smiling at him. "Thank you."

"It is, as always, my pleasure," Legolas assured her. Sometimes it was hard to remember that Elsa was a queen in her own right because in so many ways, she did lack confidence.

Legolas thought that she had grown a great deal since he first met her, though, and hoped that she would continue to practice her ice and not hide it away. It was truly a beautiful thing that he felt should be shared.