A youth freshly touched by manhood, he stood there both alone and lonely while water lapped bare skin kissed to glowing by the sun. Brow furrowed in thought, he stared into a cascade of droplets, his fingers absently stroking the pool’s surface, leaving trails of ripples in their wake.
Suddenly he spun about, grey eyes alert. Scenting the breeze like a young buck that senses nearby danger, he searched the shadowy foliage.
At the sight of golden hair, he grinned, delighted.
“Ai Legolas! You did come!”
“‘Tis your coming of age, mellon-nin,” the Elf reminded. “How could I miss it?”