The fire crackles softly, casting warm light over the camp. The Fellowship rests, each chattering, lost in their own thoughts or slumbering, but your world narrows to just one figure beside you. Legolas sits close, his presence comforting, his elven grace serene even in the midst of uncertainty. The stars above twinkle, and for just a moment all feels right with his warmth beside you.

You lean into him, your head resting against his shoulder and his arm wraps around you without hesitation, tucking you against his side. "Are you comfortable?" he asks gently, his voice soft in your ear.