[ Sooner or later the sights beyond the windows of Caer Glaem tempted Legolas into exploration of what he held closer to his heart than dusty and cold hallways of castles of stone. Woods and plains and even mountains, though that last part was something of a begrudging interest: the tops of them a welcome place to explore, their hearts only in the company of a dwarf friend who, unfortunately, did not seem to respond to the summons for he was not present.
No steed to speak of, all travel he did was by feet. Tireless and light footed, running long distances was no issue and with sights new and beautiful to accompany him, it was not tedious either.
One thing Legolas didn't expect, however, not ever after Smaug has been slain by Bard the Bowman some several hundred years ago, was to see a dragon ever again. The one of awfully few banes of the elves and he freezes in spot, reaction time delayed by far, more so than what was acceptable for an bowman of his fame. But his blood ran cold in his veins and his fingers felt numb as he reached for an arrow in his quiver... he sets it to the string, but his motions are too sluggish.
What good would it do anyway? It was no black arrow and only those could slay a dragon, he knew.
In any case, here stands an elf, tall and proud, with his bow raised and an arrow nocked on the string. He's ready to shoot, and determination to survive is evident, though he can't quite hide the hints of fright that threaten to overwhelm him every second. ]
omg
No steed to speak of, all travel he did was by feet. Tireless and light footed, running long distances was no issue and with sights new and beautiful to accompany him, it was not tedious either.
One thing Legolas didn't expect, however, not ever after Smaug has been slain by Bard the Bowman some several hundred years ago, was to see a dragon ever again. The one of awfully few banes of the elves and he freezes in spot, reaction time delayed by far, more so than what was acceptable for an bowman of his fame. But his blood ran cold in his veins and his fingers felt numb as he reached for an arrow in his quiver... he sets it to the string, but his motions are too sluggish.
What good would it do anyway? It was no black arrow and only those could slay a dragon, he knew.
In any case, here stands an elf, tall and proud, with his bow raised and an arrow nocked on the string. He's ready to shoot, and determination to survive is evident, though he can't quite hide the hints of fright that threaten to overwhelm him every second. ]