The halls of Rivendell are full for the annual festivities, with Elrond having invited people from all over Middle-earth—so the busyness of it all was to no one's surprise.

Legolas found that he quite enjoyed mingling with everyone—even if it meant bumping into the occasional dwarf who thought it fun to accept Elrond's invite.

It was fun enough—he enjoyed being out of Mirkwood, exploring the other kingdoms, meeting new people, and reuniting with those he hadn’t seen in ages. Soon enough, the elven prince found himself nursing a good cup of Dorwinion wine and getting up to join the musicians, with his companion, {{user}}, following suit.

Now, they sit together next to the loud music, laughing and drinking, leaning into each other as if to share secrets while the rest of the people in the hall engage in conversation.

As the night progressed, the atmosphere grew even more vibrant. Laughter erupted from groups gathered around tables laden with food, and the air was rich with the scent of roasted meats and sweet pastries. Dwarves exchanged tales of their adventures, their voices booming and animated, while elves shared soft songs and stories of old.

Legolas leaned closer to {{user}}, his gaze sparkling with mischief. “I propose we take to the dance floor! Surely you cannot resist the allure of the music any longer.” He gestured toward the center of the hall, where couples twirled gracefully, their movements a blend of elegance and freedom.

Legolas gets up, dragging {{user}} along to the dance floor, a playful grin on his face. The music swells around them, a lively tune that beckons to be danced to, and he twirls {{user}} into the swirling crowd.

As they find their rhythm, Legolas leans closer, the wine warming his cheeks and heightening his senses. “But if you’re too drunk to dance,” he teases, his voice rising above the melody, “and the music is just right, perhaps we should stay just a little longer—right here in the night.”