Practice! With Wellard

[findsthesun]

A young Elf*, dressed in sturdy green and brown cloth and soft leather shoes, walks into the bar.

It can, perhaps, be forgive if his first reaction is wariness and his hand flicks towards the white handled knife at his belt.

Then he laughs.

"A tavern of Men, in the middle of the forest? I have not heard tell of this."

*see (here) for description of Elves, and Legolas in particular.

Comments

[gondolin-noble.livejournal.com]

"Would they have indeed?" Glorfindel replies, studiously Not Laughing at the young prince.

Even when the rat returns, carefully balancing the flagon of wine on its head.

"Then I suppose I shall take this, and save you from having to drink it?"

What? Two flagons of very nice Dorwinion is twice as nice as one.

[findsthesun]

"It would be uncommonly rude of me to allow one of my elders to take such a risk on my account," Legolas informs Glorfindel swiftly, rounding the couch, and takes the flagon with a polite murmur of thanks to the rat.

He takes a sip, slow and thoughtful, and considers it. And then takes another, larger one. "It does not taste sour," he tells Glorfindel. "It is actually better than the 2718," he says, and then with a wry glance "Third Age."

[gondolin-noble.livejournal.com]

"Well, I would hardly expect you to be talking about the First, seeing as you were not there, and neither were the grapes." Glorfindel retorts glibly. "The Second, perhaps, but even that has the obvious difficulties."

Namely war, more war, and Legolas still not being alive. Oh well."

[findsthesun]

"I was thinking that perhaps you'd found it from the future," Legolas says, after a moment. "If we are at the end of Time."