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Having stored what few belongings he had brought with him on the shelves of the Rivendell elves' cabin, Legolas took a moment to sit and center himself. The bed on which he was sitting seemed comfortable enough, having been made up with the woven blankets he had found in a chest beneath it. Its twin, unmade and unused looked almost lonely on the other side of the small room. There was a tiny hearth at the far end of the room, thoroughly swept out after the previous tenants of the cabin had last left. The coolness of the air inside did not bother the elf though, and he decided against lighting a fire for the moment. Perhaps later.

Instead, Legolas picked up one of the handful of personal items he had brought with him on this sojourn of undefined length. It was a dagger, small but extremely well crafted. Its blade glinted with a rippled light in the dimness of the room. The reason this particular item fell under the category of personal rather than practical items (although he supposed it fit the later as well) was because of where, or rather whom it came from.

He remembered that Solstice like it was yesterday...

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"For you, ernil-nin. In honor of the longest night before the coming of spring." Tauriel had smiled warmly at him as she passed him the wrapped parcel. Without her usual armor and her long red hair shining like amber in the candlelight of the Grand Hall, Legolas was fairly certain that was the moment he had first started thinking of her as more than just a Captain of the Guard.

"Le hannon Tauriel, but it wasn't necessary for you to get me a gift." Still, Legolas had accepted the offered present with a gracious nod and a smile. "Isn't that usually a tradition reserved for friends and family?"

Tauriel's dark eyes had twinkled as she raised an eyebrow. "I had thought that perhaps after so many years serving together as warriors of the king, you and I could call one another 'Mellon'." The she-elf's voice took on a hint of teasing. "Or was I mistaken?"

The game was up. With a slightly guilty wince, Legolas had reached behind the statue between himself and the wall to produce his own carefully-wrapped gift for Tauriel. The Silvan elf always seemed to think his own thoughts just a half second before he did himself.

"Happy Solstice, mellon-nin."

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A knock sounded on the cabin door, and Legolas set the dagger down on the bed before rising to answer it. He was surprised to find a tall girl-child standing on the threshold, staring up at him with wide blue eyes. She looked about twelve years of age by mortal reckonings, but then Legolas was not very practiced at guessing the age of human children.

"Strider said to tell you that you're welcome to join everyone in the main hall for dinner." The girl's voice was high and squeaky with excitement. "We've roasted pheasants tonight, and there's toasted bread with butter too. Oh, and mead!" Clearly this young one had had some hand in helping to prepare the food, judging by how she was fairly bursting with pride to tell him about dinner.

Far be it from Legolas to turn away such an earnest invite. With a half-smile, he got a sudden idea into his head to humor his young hostess. "I would be honored to accept such an invite." The prince said in his best courtly tone. "May I escort you to dinner, my lady?" With a short bow, he offered out a bent arm to her.

The girl fairly fainted with glee, and by the time she had tugged him across the yard to the large wooden building which served as the town's main hall she was almost bouncing with every step.

What Legolas hadn't counted on though was the reception they would get once they crossed over the threshold into the large building filled with loudly talking bodies and the scent of meat cooking. The folk who noticed the elf with the girl-child hanging on his arm immediately erupted into a barrage of good-natured teasing.

"Why Gelwin, what a fine escort you've found yourself! Did you braid his hair for him before you came?"

"Isn't he a little old for ya girl? Still, ya have good taste!"

If the girl had been flushed before, by this time she was a shade of red that could have put most of Thranduil's wines to shame. With a squeak, she dropped Legolas's arm and dashed away among the crowd towards what looked like her friends. The mirth from the gathered Dunedain fairly shook the walls, but none of it was mocking so Legolas bore it as best he could. Clearly human humor had less to do with carefully the constructed wit and wordplay that elves favored and was more situational in nature.

Spotting Strider standing by the large fire pit in the center of the room with a group of other ranger around him, Legolas wove his way through the human throng like a dancer. The scent of mortals was all throughout this place. Before he could get all the way to his destination though, he found his path blocked by a woman nearly as tall as himself or any of the Dunedain men. She wore a kirtle spattered with the gore of cooking meat, but Legolas's sharp eyes didn't miss the bowstring calluses on her fingers when she thrust a wooden plate of peasant breast toward him.

"Didn't you manage to hunt anything on the journey here?!" With her long black braid swishing, the woman shook her head to ward off any words of thanks or refusal. "Food first, then talk." With a wily glance over her shoulder, she looked back to Legolas and winked. "Strider asked you to join us for dinner, so I'll bet he'll still be there when you're finished with that."

Before Legolas could even get a word out, the raven-haired warrior/cook was already back to work at the spit slicing more pieces of pheasant off for the hungry townsfolk and rangers. Resolving to no longer be fazed by the sudden, outgoing nature of mortals, Legolas sniffed the aroma of roasted bird that was rising from the dish in his hand and decided that eating was not such a bad idea after all. Now that he thought about it, it had been almost uncomfortably long since his last meal out on the road.

As the prince of the Woodland Realm was sampling the first few bites of his dinner, many pairs of eyes subtly watched him from around the room. The Dunedain were both cautious and guardedly curious about this new arrival. After so many years of their constant visits, they were all quite used to Elrond's twin sons Elladan and Elrohir. The pair seemed to move and act almost a unit, and their midnight black heads could always be seen close together in the crowd of the main hall. Everyone knew them, even when they would be away for as much as two or even five years. The twins meshed easily with their human hosts and would often even join in on the raucous conversations and jesting.

Legolas's silvery blond hair stood out among the dark crowd of northerners like a beacon, and the fact that this was his first day here was obvious even if he hadn't been trying to stand quietly by himself to eat his meal. It was an informative evening for Strider's folk though; many of them had never seen other elves before and assumed most of their folk to be similar to Elladan and Elrohir in both manner and appearance. Watching this elf from the Greenwood gave them much to consider. However, the real test would come later. The way to any man's heart may be through his stomach, but the way to any Dunedain's trust is through battle.

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