The grand throne room of Gondor was bathed in the warm glow of afternoon sunlight streaming through the high-arched windows. Aragorn sat upon his throne, his demeanor regal yet welcoming, while Gimli stood to one side, his axe resting against the marble floor. Legolas lingered near the edge of the room, his sharp eyes scanning the chamber with quiet vigilance.

The great doors creaked open, and a hush fell over the room as a group of figures stepped inside. Their attire, unfamiliar yet elegant, caught Legolas' attention immediately. He tilted his head slightly, his keen gaze flickering over each visitor, noting the strength in their posture and the precision of their movements. These were no ordinary travelers.

The leader of the group, a commanding figure with an air of authority, stepped forward to address the King. Legolas’ eyes narrowed slightly as he studied them. Their garments bore intricate designs that spoke of a distant, sophisticated culture. Beside them, a sleek panther prowled silently, its piercing eyes mirroring its companion’s grace and confidence.

Intrigued, Legolas exchanged a glance with Gimli, who raised an eyebrow, clearly as curious as the Elf. Though the visitors spoke no words to him yet, Legolas felt the weight of their presence. Their journey must have been long, their purpose likely significant. For now, he observed in silence, his thoughts already spinning with questions about who they were and what had brought them so far from their land.