Heavy cerulean eyes shifted in the direction of the airy being, a hardened expression becoming ever-so apparent on the Prince’s face as he tucked his fists beneath his arms, crossing them over his broad chest.
"Need something, elf?"
"Ever do you greet our kind with rancor, hadhod.” The Elf folded his arms behind his back, tilting his chin downwards to study the Dwarf, his eyebrows lifted. “Is it now forbidden for a son of the woods to so much as look upon a child of the mountains without being met with animosity?”
There goes a lord who tamed a wild shieldmaiden of the North! Was there no woman of the race of Numenor to choose?
For those who like their angst in one big image.
WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS!!
NO NO ITS NOT TEARS ITS JUST A FLOOD ON MY FACE!!!!!
"No no, you’re doing just fine!" She chirps gladly, hastily rushing out from behind the lab table to greet him. "I’m Agent Simmons. Jemma Simmons," she explains as she holds out a hand to him. "Usually I’m here with Fitz, but he’s absent at the moment. Looking for monkeys or something, probably…"
Hesitant, his fingers itching for the fletching of an arrow, Legolas offered the girl an uncertain smile. Since his arrival on Earth, his old tics had returned, and his hands often shook. “I am Legolas.” The Elf pressed his lips together. Then, suddenly decisive, he took Jemma’s hand and shook it. “It is a pleasure, ah, Agent Simmons. Yet I fear that I do not know of Agent Fitz. Ought I to?”
'Truly songs and tales fall utterly short of the reality, O Smaug the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities,’ replied Bilbo.