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The next few days passed pleasantly enough, marked by an almost uncharacteristic warming in Fornost. Tree boughs which had for weeks been bent low under the weight of snow suddenly found themselves free to rise as their white burdens melted away. Everywhere the ground was either coated with slush, mud or some mixture of the two. It seemed winter had fallen prey to a brief burst of spring in the northern lands.

With no sightings of orcs in the immediate vicinity the atmosphere around the village was quite calm, almost relaxed. The spate of good humor this patch of spring had brought with it worked in Legolas's favor; the Dunedain seemed to be accepting him by measured degrees with each passing day. The Sindarin elf could still feel eyes on his shoulders nearly everywhere he went, and had no doubt that it would be some time still before these wary people trusted him enough to allow him to come and go as he pleased about the village. Still, Legolas found himself almost enjoying the unexpected freedom this sojourn away from his people had granted him.

Patrols went out into the forest every day, and although he was invited every time to join the rangers no one turned to him expecting leadership. That role was reserved for Strider and his captains, who led their groups along familiar trails with an ease an elf could almost envy. Legolas for his part watched and listened, absorbing how the Dunedain interacted with one another and the world around them. When they chanced upon a stag grazing in the underbrush, Legolas was almost surprised to witness the appreciation and reverence with which Daernon treated the creature after he had shot it down with one clean arrow. Living in relative isolation in the Greenwood came with a certain sense of disinterest in mortals, and now Legolas observed with fascination how these rangers seemed to be almost as attuned with the natural world as his own people.

There were certain elements of elvish culture though which the prince of Mirkwood still kept to with devotion; hygiene for one. Unlike the elvenking's palace, there didn't seem to be any facilities reserved for bathing in the simple village. Rather than build anything 'frivolous' such as bath houses, the Dunedain simply bathed in the nearby river whenever an opportunity arose...which from the smell of some of the men was not regularly. Even on the road, Legolas had made time to bathe himself at least once every three days. He had no intention of ceasing to do so now, and so on the third morning since his arrival Legolas arose early and left his cabin with a towel over his arm.

The path to the river was sticky with mud from the melt, so Legolas instead walked over the snow to the side. It was an easier walk over the crusty snow (to an elf at least!) and he was standing on the riverbank just as the sunlight began to shine through the trees. With satisfaction, Legolas noted that he hadn't been followed; either he was to be granted privacy or he had just succeeded in sneaking away unnoticed.

Pleased with himself and the fresh scent of the forest in the morning, Legolas draped his towel over a branch and inspected the riverbank as far as his sharp eyes could see in either direction. The instinct of woodcraft demanded one check for any signs of enemies before settling down to anything. Satisfied that he was alone, the flaxen-haired elf set his knives down on a rock which would be quickly accessible from the water.

Stripping to the skin and leaving his clothes hanging with his towel, Legolas plunged into the icy water without hesitation. The shock did the rest of the work in chasing away what remained of his reverie from the night before. Reaching down with his toes and finding the mucky bottom surprisingly deep down, Legolas surfaced and swam back a little closer to the shore.

Once his long hair was freed from its braids and his scalp properly scrubbed, the elf gave himself a moment to enjoy the river. Diving down and then back up a few times, he made his way toward bar in the middle of the rapidly moving current with confident strokes. Now able to stand with the water at his waist, Legolas stood up and stretched as cold rivulets ran from his hair down his back.

A sudden noise from the trees in the direction of the village instantly had Legolas on alert, and he dropped back into deeper water. The sound of human voices reached him soon enough though; it seemed Legolas wasn't the only one with a mind for bathing this morning.

Sure enough, four of the younger men soon rounded the bend in the path and came into view. Recognizing Legolas even at a distance by his blonde head, one of them raised an arm in greeting and called out.

"Good morning! How is the water?"

Reaching the bank, Legolas stood and squeezed some of the river in a stream from his hair. "Refreshing enough to make short work of last night's ale." he called back. Not that any of the alcohols the Dunedain possessed could have so much as given the prince of Mirkwood a headache, but he'd seen these four in particular enjoying themselves a bit too much the night before.

The rangers seemed to find this amusing enough though, and were all splashing about in the river in a twinkling. They were a hardy bunch, these Dunedain, Legolas had to give them that. The water in this river must have come straight down out of the Emyn Uial, or Hills of Evendim to mortal tongues.

Taking a handful of fine sand from the riverbank and using it to scrub the skin on his arms and shoulders, Legolas couldn't help but mark the differences between his own physique and that of the young rangers. Even in their early adulthood, all four of them were sporting the beginnings of what looked to be promising beards. Dark hair covered their chests, some more than others, and stretched down to other areas as well... Their broad shoulders were well-muscled, and tanned skinned stood out starkly against the paleness of the winter forest.

Elves for the most part grew little in the way of body hair, not that anyone could tell just by looking at a fully-clad Eldar. Bathing in the river with these people though, Legolas knew that he was being curiously observed out of the corners of their eyes too. His milk-white skin and slender limbs must look quite unusual, even somewhat effeminate to these youths, he thought to himself in amusement. The irony lay in how strong Legolas really was though. Although his frame may not have looked it, one need only have attempted to pull back the elf's hunting bow with its enormous draw-weight to know that Legolas was more than capable of handling himself. To speak nothing of the equally impressive and equally subtle strength of elf-maids...!

Youth insists on testing everything for itself, unfortunately. When the tallest and broadest of the four stood up on the banks and called across the few dozen yards to where Legolas was bathing, he knew what the mortal would ask before he even said it.

"Come Master Elf, will you join us for a bit of wrestling?" The fellow must have been about two-and-twenty, and it showed in the bravado in his stance. "It does wonderfully for warming the blood after the cool of the river."

Legolas was already halfway dried off and into his leggings by the time the challenge was issued. Far from being intimidated, he was mentally gauging just how much he would have to hold back to avoid actually injuring anyone in a bout. Wrestling was not the sport of choice for elves, but Legolas supposed it would hurt nothing to stretch a few muscles in the ring.

"As you say." He answered, making his way fluidly over the rocky shore toward the rangers. "I must confess it's been some time since last I wrestled, but I accept the offer all the same." Legolas hoped the glint in his bright blue eyes wouldn't give away his baiting.

He needn't have worried. This tall young fellow was so eager at the thought of impressing his friends that he wouldn't have noticed if Legolas had brought a knife to the bout with him. Both bare-skinned except for their trousers, the elf and the human shook hands briefly before falling into the wrestling form. Hooting and calling encouragement to their friend, the other three youths arranged themselves on nearby rocks and fallen logs to enjoy the show.

Crouched low, Legolas resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. Although this fellow might be full of bluster and ego, his form was excellent. Even though the lad was tall and broad, he covered himself carefully with his arms moving out before him, careful not to present an easy opening to the quick-footed elf. Head bobbing subtly almost like a bird, Legolas hinted at moves he didn't actually intend to make in order to draw out a weakness in his opponent's defenses.

Although he had fully expected the young ranger to make the first move, it came as a surprise to the prince when the young ranger held his posture and waited patiently for an opening to appear. The boasting and prodding of their audience was getting to be a bit much though.

"Come on Andris, he won't be able to get a grip on you! Look how skinny his arms are!"

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Legolas decided to give these young men a lesson in underestimating one's opponent. Spotting just the slightest glimmer of a defect in the cover those powerful arms were providing their owner, he tucked his head of still-damp golden hair and dove in for a tackle...

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