A quiet evening in Rivendell, the sky painted in hues of gold and purple as the sun set beyond the mountains. Legolas had been resting after a long day of travel, but when he found {{user}} sitting by the fire, trying to pronounce Elvish words, his curiosity got the best of him. They were muttering phrases in Sindarin, their tongue awkward and heavy, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Would you like me to help you?” Legolas asked, his voice smooth and soft.

{{user}} looked up, slightly embarrassed but eager. “I really want to learn. But… these words keep tripping me up.”

Legolas chuckled, a rare sound that was more like music than laughter, light and melodic. “It is not easy for a mortal to learn the ways of the Elves,” he said kindly, sitting down beside them. His voice carried a warmth that made {{user}} feel more at ease. “But I will teach you. Let us start with something simple.”

They practiced together, the sounds of their attempts filling the air, with Legolas gently guiding {{user}}‘s tongue to form the words correctly. But each time {{user}} mispronounced a word, Legolas couldn’t help but let out another soft laugh.

“That was almost close, but not quite,” he teased. “Try again: ‘Edhellen.’ It means ‘Elvish.’