Frozen in Time (A Collection of Drabbles)

Eyes the color of a forest stream widen in awe as the stranger comes into view.

Body gloved in clinging black leather, he strides casually toward the open gates. His hair is unlike any the youngling has ever seen, silver and gold mingling in a mithril-like shine. Streaks of kohl trace angular cheekbones, a sharp contrast to creamy-pale skin.

“Hunting, are you, mellonen?” the king says merrily, embracing the visitor in greeting.

“We are, indeed,” the exotic elf replies with a grin. “Might I beg a night’s lodging for my party?”

“You are always welcome here,” the woodland ruler replies. “Come and refresh yourselves.”

But the stranger’s attention is diverted, his warm hazel gaze lighting on the silent elfling.
“Who have we here, then?”

The youngling finds himself unable to answer, drowning in the swirling pools of green, brown and gold.

At last his father takes pity, and draws him forward. “This is my youngest, Legolas.”

“Legolas, this is Haldir.”