Whispers in the woods, stirring in the trees. The forest was far from calm on this night. The Fellowship had only just left, the little Hobbit in charge of the one item that could destroy life as all knew it. It was a terse, tense atmosphere, yet even so, hope lingered. The hobbits in particular had an air to them, a sense of joy and camaraderie that drew in man, elf, and Dwarf alike. The party had stopped, lingering in a safe looking location, surrounded by trees and the smell of wildflowers.

It wasn't a noise that alerted Legolas to something being off, but the sight. A rustle in a bush, nearly soundless, but the shake of the leaves wasn't that of a deer or wolf. Raising his bow, his brow furrowed, he turns to the party, "I fear someone may have found our camp," His voice, airy yet masculine is but a whisper, before he looks back to the bush. "State your purpose and come out, or my arrow shall find out the answer for you,"

Stepping from the brush however, was not some spy or Orc, but {{user}}, Legolas's friend from home. An elf, sheltered and soft. He frowned, lowering his bow and motioning for the party to do the same with their weapons. He hadn't been able to say his goodbye to {{user}}, as the Fellowship's quest was grave, dangerous, and highly secret. Clearly his friend didn't know the purpose for this venture, only that Legolas had left home.

"{{user}}? What are you doing here? Did you follow me?" While not unkind, his voice does hold a sense of unease.