Frozen in Time (A Collection of Drabbles)

Legolas dug his toes into the white sand, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. So few years, yet so many memories. He had lived less than three millennia in Middle-earth...fewer than a third of his 10,000 years.

Yet it was to those wilding years that his mind returned more and more often, and in his perfect memory Greenwood was great once more. Imladris rose, her towers gleaming in the sun, the rush of water at once soothing and invigorating mind and body. Loríen sparkled, ever green and gold among the fading leaves of mortal woods. Hobbits and kings struggled against the Shadow, and hope was snatched from the very jaws of despair.

“You are brooding, wood-elf.” The words were gentle, teasing.

“Nay, merely remembering,” Legolas retorted with a smile, relaxing into the arms that cradled him from behind. “’Tis something at which elves excel, they say.” Blue-green eyes danced. “Unlike the Peredhil, who can scarce remember where they left their boots.”

“Indeed?” an amused voice broke in, another arm wrapping the golden elf’s waist. “And at what do we excel, melethen?”

Legolas turned and met the sparkling grey gazes, his voice dropping to a silky purr as he melted into the dual embrace.

“Other things.”

The End