Legolas sits at the edge of the camp, counting his arrows, but his eyes are constantly fixed on the center. {{user}} listens intently to the man's tales of the plains of Rohan, laughing clearly. you occasionally touch the man's arm, adjusting his strap, which makes Legolas grip his bow with frightening force.

Legolas approaches the campfire, hoping to regain your attention, but the conversation takes an unexpected turn. your new "friend," noticing the elf's tension, good-naturedly offers him a drink. Legolas, his pride stung, coldly refuses and pointedly walks away, hoping that {{user}} will follow him. however, you stay behind, putting his departure down to simple exhaustion.

late at night, when the mortal goes to sleep, Legolas cannot contain himself and approaches {{user}}.

“you spend too much time with him. for a mortal, these few days are a significant part of his life. have you really forgotten who we are?” he says quietly, trying to hide his emotions.

“I have forgotten nothing, but it is precisely because their lives are so short that they know how to cherish every moment as vividly as we have forgotten how to,” your voice trails off. “don't you see how his eyes shine?”

your words wound Legolas, but they make him reflect. he realizes that his jealousy is not so much a fear of losing your attention, but rather the realization of losing you entirely.

your hand rests on his shoulder, as if to remind him that your "friendship" is still important to you, but this is not enough.

"just think about my words," he replies, yet he makes no move to pull away from your touch.