He's glad to have the moment to just walk for now, though he had to run back briefly to grab the wine he'd forgotten. Maybe his father will make better use of it than Legolas has so far. For all the singing and humming, he hasn't quite felt safe enough to partake in what is most likely undiluted Dorwinion. The only wine he'd ever dream about.
Legolas keeps still for the inspection, reducing the singing to a low hum while he does the same. Provost, she had called Thranduil. He wonders if that is like a title, and if it is any related to the way his father dresses now. Elven, still, but only just, and a bit drab, even for a wood-elf.
He does startle, just slightly, at the touch to his cheek, and laughs when he realizes why it was done, and to realize that it reassures him in some way as well. That he is not still in his waking dream after all, and that he is no longer in Gondor either. His father looks healthy enough, whatever he has been doing here.
The song picks up again as they walk, going effortlessly from spider-slaying to autumn harvests and warm night feasts. It was still summer before he came here, and he is looking forward to the fall. If home they are able to go. It is a fleeting thought.
Yet even that peters out sharply when the sea comes into view. He's quiet again, first in wonder at the beauty of the sight, then in something like a shadow of longing, of the cry of the gull heard over Pelargir, or something that calls to him even when he has never seen nor heard it before. But it is only that, only a shadow. And the gulls that cry here want only for food.
Legolas considers throwing a fruit at them, for cheek.
And after some moments of listening to the waves crashing into the cliffs in the distance, watching the dots of boats bobbing at the docks, he lets out a nonplussed 'hm'. "It is... more water than I had expected."
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Legolas keeps still for the inspection, reducing the singing to a low hum while he does the same. Provost, she had called Thranduil. He wonders if that is like a title, and if it is any related to the way his father dresses now. Elven, still, but only just, and a bit drab, even for a wood-elf.
He does startle, just slightly, at the touch to his cheek, and laughs when he realizes why it was done, and to realize that it reassures him in some way as well. That he is not still in his waking dream after all, and that he is no longer in Gondor either. His father looks healthy enough, whatever he has been doing here.
The song picks up again as they walk, going effortlessly from spider-slaying to autumn harvests and warm night feasts. It was still summer before he came here, and he is looking forward to the fall. If home they are able to go. It is a fleeting thought.
Yet even that peters out sharply when the sea comes into view. He's quiet again, first in wonder at the beauty of the sight, then in something like a shadow of longing, of the cry of the gull heard over Pelargir, or something that calls to him even when he has never seen nor heard it before. But it is only that, only a shadow. And the gulls that cry here want only for food.
Legolas considers throwing a fruit at them, for cheek.
And after some moments of listening to the waves crashing into the cliffs in the distance, watching the dots of boats bobbing at the docks, he lets out a nonplussed 'hm'. "It is... more water than I had expected."