He watched her tresses delicately flowing in the breeze.
He touched her, her whole body shivered.
He spoke sweet words of the tongue of the Eldar, the language she loved so well.
She felt his music in the depth of her.
She felt his eyes upon her more delicate than the gentle winds.
She felt his touch, his passion, his affection.
She felt the memories return to a lost time.
Legolas gazed with love, fervor and most of all . . . respect. The great silver tree of Lórien. A beauty to behold.