Echoes Beyond

Forgotten dreams and broken souls

The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams

After a long night, Legolas and Faranel continued their journey to Lothlórien. The path was serene, yet Legolas felt an increasing weight on his heart with each step closer to the fabled forest. Faranel, sensing his friend's unease, remained silent, offering support through his presence.

As they entered the borders of Lothlórien, the golden light of the forest bathed them in a warm glow. The trees themselves seemed to whisper songs of welcome. Elves adorned in flowing, ethereal garments lined the path, their bows drawn in a gesture of honor. Petals of the rarest flowers were scattered before Legolas's feet, creating a fragrant, colorful carpet.

Legolas tried to maintain his composure, but the nervous energy within him was palpable. His eyes darted around, taking in the sight of his kin and the beauty of the forest, yet he felt a storm brewing inside him. Each step forward was a step closer to a future he was being forced into, and his frustration grew.

As they reached the heart of Lothlórien, he was met by a row of maidens, all of whom were waiting eagerly to greet him. Their eyes widened in awe as they beheld the Prince of Mirkwood. Legolas was indeed a sight to behold: tall and muscular, his lithe frame moved with the grace of a born warrior. His long, golden hair shimmered in the light, and his piercing blue eyes seemed to see through to one's soul. His features were chiseled and flawless, radiating a mix of power and nobility. The scent of the forest clung to him, a heady mix of pine and earth that was intoxicating to those around him.

The maidens whispered among themselves, their admiration evident. 

     "Look at him," one murmured. "He's even more handsome than the tales say."

     "And his eyes," another added, "so intense like they can see right through you."

Legolas's presence commanded attention and respect, a combination of his royal lineage and his undeniable charisma. Yet, despite the adoration, Legolas's mind was elsewhere, consumed by the thought of the impending marriage he dreaded.

Faranel, noticing the tension in Legolas's posture, leaned in and whispered, 

     "Remember, my friend, you are here for a reason. Stay strong."

Legolas nodded, though his jaw remained clenched. He acknowledged the greetings with a nod but could not summon a genuine smile. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions: anger, sorrow, and a desperate yearning for freedom. He wanted to lash out, to voice his frustration, but he knew it would not change his fate.

As they reached the grand hall where the formal welcome was to take place, Legolas took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. The weight of his responsibilities pressed heavily upon him, but he knew he had to endure. For now, he would play the part expected of him, even as his heart yearned for another path.

The hall was filled with more elves, all eyes on him. As he stood there, a figure of strength and grace, the murmurs of admiration continued to flow through the crowd. But for Legolas, the admiration was hollow. His thoughts drifted to the life he truly desired, one far removed from the expectations and duties imposed upon him.

At that moment, despite the grandeur of the welcome and the adoration of those around him, Legolas felt more alone than ever.

As he entered the grand hall of Lothlórien, the murmurs of admiration continued to flow through the crowd. The head of Lothlórien, Lord Celeborn, approached him with a dignified smile. His presence was commanding, yet warm, as he extended a hand in greeting.