In the great expanse of stories on brave kings and men that could never once be defeated, the elf has never felt more intimidated by them than he has of their women.
He does not fear rage. He does not fear energy. Such strong emotion shows a lack to stability and rational thought. It's far more uneasy to be in the presence of someone calm and collected. They have the time to think, the ability to plan, the possibility to see right through you.
He has never been in the presence of a queen that did not pass this mark.
Lady Longil is tall and lean, wearing a fitted yellow tunic and a long black braid that extends halfway down her calves. Her skin is that same golden-brown as the others that live here, rich and deep, and her eyes are the warmest brown one may ever see. She stands still, regal and elegant inside the large entry of what the three can only assume is the castle to their kingdom. She eyes them with the coldness of a mountain storm, unmoving as they are presented to her feet.
"O gaero far a iar," presents Nînthel as the three give a slight bow. "From seas of far and old. Outsiders. Otheren."
Longil looks down with nothing to her face, no single crease crossing her expression. Even Gimli himself finds it threatening to not know what it is that she is thinking, and he makes an effort to act elegant around her presence.
"Hain turno iuithina ammen if hain turnora gir na Aman," Elu adds. "They will be of use to us if they can take our ship to Aman."
Longil turns her attention back to the three. Softly, powerfully, she speaks yet for the first time, the inquiry striking them roughly in the ears.
"Can you fight? Hunt? Weld?" she asks. "The cat-adaneth may be of use as a night guard otherwise."
"Gimli cannot hunt no matter how hard he tries," Legolas says, the words escaping him before he can stop them. "He's lucky to skin a ferret with an hour to the century's sharpest blade."
"The dwarf may speak for himself," Longil declares before Gimli can openly insult the elf in return.
"I am not the most useful hunter," Gimli admits, giving a sour glare to the friend to his side, "but I have strength like a bull and weight like a cow and I can swing an axe like a blade of grass."
Longil's eyes flick back to the elf again, her head soon turning to follow them. "And you, pale elf," she inquires, "what is it that you can offer?"
"I am swift, skilled and quick," Legolas settles. "I can shoot a bow through the center of a stone. I can use a sword like an artist's brush and a brush like a feather."
Longil does not respond, rather moving on from the statement so quickly that it isn't clear if she heard him at all. "And what of you, cat-adaneth?" she asks. Ulvinowyn flicks the end of her tail.
"I suppose," she replies, glancing humorously at her two companions, "I can be the night guard."
➵
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Passersby ➵ ONC 2021
Fanfic➵ With his days anything but numbered, Legolas finds himself the keeper of far too much time. ➵ As his dear friend Aragorn has passed at the age of 210 and all reason to remain in his kingdom has followed, the immortal elf ventures away from his la...
