With Eric's patient guidance, Legolas had finally found something he actually enjoyed doing.
Farming.
He moved lightly between rows of corn stalks, his boots pressing against freshly tilled soil, gathering ripe crops into a basket. Watching them pile up bit by bit gave him a sense of accomplishment he had rarely felt in his long life.
It helped that crops here grew at a ridiculous pace, sprouting and ripening as if eager to please. That made harvesting quick and satisfying, which in turn made the work strangely invigorating.
"I still cannot believe such miracles exist," Legolas murmured.
The elven prince had shed his leather armor, bow, and blades, trading them for a simple set of homespun clothes. Sitting on a small wooden stool beside the field, he gazed first at the farm rows and then at the trees swaying in the breeze. For the first time in ages, he looked genuinely relaxed.
Sunlight pooled warmly across his shoulders.
The world here was so different from the quiet and ethereal dwellings of the elves. These people were always busy, always chattering, always striving toward something. Mortals carried with them a vitality that came, he realized, from the ticking clock of their short lives. Knowing their time was limited, they threw themselves into every day with unshakable determination.
After finishing his patch of land, Legolas wandered further into the settlement. Preparations for a great feast were underway. Though the population of Roadside Keep was not large, they managed to fill the air with noise, color, and movement.
As an elf, Legolas naturally stood out. Yet the townsfolk, already accustomed to marvels thanks to their eccentric lord, only gave him curious glances before carrying on. At this point, even the sudden arrival of a dragon would not have startled them. They would simply shrug and assume Eric had arranged it.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Legolas asked one of the busy men.
The man blinked in surprise, then smiled and pointed toward the storeroom. "We could use a few more tables and cups. If you don't mind hauling them from the warehouse, that would be a blessing."
"Gladly."
Legolas immediately set to work. His willingness to pitch in quickly earned him a reputation. Before long, word spread that the settlement now had a hardworking elf who not only labored with the people but also answered them kindly when spoken to.
By the time the feast began, Legolas had blended seamlessly into the crowd, laughing and chatting as though he had always belonged.
At one point, a little girl toddled over, clutching something in her hands. She reached up on tiptoe and offered him a small red flower.
Legolas froze.
"Thank you," he said softly. "Does this flower carry some special meaning?"
The girl shook her head. "I don't know. But when I first came here, one of Lord Eric's iron golems gave me this flower. I was scared, and hungry, and so very tired. But when the golem placed it in my hands, I felt safe for the first time."
Her young face grew solemn. "You are kind, sir. I don't want you to be sad."
"Sad?"
Legolas crouched, resting a gentle hand on her head. "No, little one. I am not sad. In truth, I am happy here. There is always something to do, and I feel fulfilled."
The girl's brow furrowed. "But… you seem lonely."
Legolas let out a soft laugh and lowered his gaze. He tucked the flower carefully away. "Then I will treasure it."
With that, he excused himself from the gathering and returned quietly to the keep.
"Eric."
"Hm?"
"If kindness had a color," Legolas said, "I think it could very well be red."
"Maybe so," Eric replied absently, unaware of what had just stirred in the elf's heart. Still, he sensed something had changed for the better.
The feast marked the first day of spring. Ice melted, grass pushed up tender shoots, and the settlement thrummed with life.
Eric strolled out to greet the villagers, accepting cheers and raised mugs at every step.
"Ohhh heavens, this drink is strong!"
A man who had just swallowed a cup of Eric's vodka staggered, eyes spinning like a dwarf after three rounds of dwarven songs. Most of the liquor came from Eric's own brewing. Aside from lighter ale, even his weakest spirits packed a potent twenty percent punch. Those used to mild wines barely survived a gulp before blinking furiously in bewilderment.
Yet some souls seemed born to drink.
"This tastes… sharp," Legolas said after downing two large mugs without flinching. He flexed his fingers curiously. "They feel slightly numb. Is this what you call drunkenness?"
The crowd stared at him, slack-jawed.
Did elves all have stomachs made of mithril?
"No, my friend," Eric chuckled. He hauled over a heavy table and thumped down ten kegs of fifty-five percent vodka. "This is drunkenness. Care to try?"
The crowd immediately roared with anticipation.
Legolas looked around at the eager faces, then smiled faintly. "Why not."
Cheers exploded.
"They seem very confident in you," Legolas remarked, raising his mug toward Eric.
"Well, I am their lord," Eric said. "They know where to place their bets."
A child's voice piped up from the throng. "You can do it, Mister Elf!"
Legolas turned, saw the little girl from before pumping her tiny fist, and gave her a smile in return. Facing Eric again, he lifted his drink. "As it happens, I feel quite confident myself. Let us toast to our meeting and to the founding of Roadside Keep."
"To friendship," Eric declared.
The duel of drinks began.
What followed was a feast of bottomless mugs, hearty laughter, and endless food. Residents wandered, trading stories, sampling dishes, and occasionally collapsing in blissful stupor. Only two figures remained fixed at the same table, drinking steadily without pause: Eric and Legolas.
Nobody knew how many mugs, or even how many barrels, they consumed. They only remembered seeing the elf carried away at the end of the night, asleep and smiling peacefully. As for Eric, he remained miraculously upright, casually sipping milk between vodkas as if it were nothing. His capacity left everyone baffled.
When silence finally settled over the keep, Eric lingered alone in the great hall, deep in thought.
The door creaked open.
"Legolas?"
Eric blinked in surprise. "Already awake? Have some milk."
"Thank you."
Legolas accepted the cup, equally surprised to find Eric awake. Did the man ever sleep?
"You are armed again?" Eric asked, noting the elf's armor, bow, and knives.
"I must be on my way. I am grateful for your kindness, Eric. I have learned much."
"Oh? What exactly?"
"That loneliness is not mine alone to bear," Legolas said simply.
Eric straightened, nodding. "True enough."
Legolas drained the milk in one swallow and looked startled at the sudden clarity that washed over him. He glanced from his empty cup to Eric, but said nothing more. Instead, he set the cup down, bowed his head slightly, and turned to go.
"I am certain we shall meet again," he called back, before riding east into the dawn.
Days later, the guards at the Woodland Realm's gates glimpsed a lone rider in the distance. Before they could report, the elf raised a hand.
"Do not speak of my return."
That morning, King Thranduil entered his hall as usual and approached his carved wooden throne. His keen eyes immediately caught something lying upon the armrest.
A red flower, bright against the polished wood.
Beside it, a green leaf.
"Legolas…"
The Elvenking whispered the name softly. He lifted the flower with care, holding it as though it were the most fragile thing in the world. For a long while, he stood motionless beneath the great pillars of stone, his staff of oak resting forgotten at his side.
In the turning of seasons, Thranduil rarely showed change. His crowns of berries and leaves shifted with summer and winter, but his demeanor was ever the same.
That spring, however, his people noticed something new. Among the blossoms woven into his crown, one vivid red flower stood out.