The night was calm, the forest wrapped in silver as the moonlight filtered through the leaves. The Fellowship sat around a crackling fire—warm, tired, and content after a long day of travel.

Aragorn leaned back against a log, cleaning his knife. Gimli gnawed on a piece of leftover roasted rabbit. Frodo and Sam shared the last bits of bread. Merry and Pippin told some half-whispered joke that made them snort into their cloaks. Boromir stretched out with a satisfied sigh.

For once, everything was peaceful.

“Where have the two elves gone?” Gimli grumbled, peering over his plate. “Vanished into the trees again, I wager.”

Aragorn glanced toward the darker edge of the woods. “Not vanished. Simply… enjoying themselves.”

The rest of them looked as well.

A few feet away, beyond the ring of firelight, you—{{user}}, youngest of the elves—and Legolas were locked in a playful sparring dance.

Your gold blond hair shimmered with each movement. Legolas moved lightly beside you, laughing under his breath as your blades tapped, swirled, and clashed with no true intent to harm. Only to tease.

You lunged; he dodged with an unnecessarily dramatic flourish, which made you burst out laughing.

“That was ridiculous,” you giggled.

“That was graceful,” he corrected, feigning offense.

Aragorn chuckled quietly. “They’ve been like this all day.”

“Like two squirrels in spring,” Merry added.

Pippin nodded earnestly. “Oh, absolutely in love.”

Frodo smiled softly. “Have they said anything?”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “But you can see it. Clear as daylight.”

Gimli snorted into his beard. “Bah. Everyone with eyes can see it. Except, apparently, the two of them.”

The Fellowship fell into a warm hush as they watched from the fire.

Legolas twirled around you, his blond hair brushing your arm as he stopped behind you. “You are light on your feet tonight,” he said softly.