"Here you are, hir nin."
Legolas took the tomato from the farmer and wiped it on his tunic before he took a bite. Juice dribbled from the side of his mouth and he threw his hand up hastily to catch what he could.
The farmer chuckled.
"Save some for the festival."
Legolas grinned and took another bite. "I will see you later on today. Thank you."
The farmer waved as Legolas jogged back into the forest. Light, fresh as the breeze that blew his hair back from face, projected flawed patterns on the forest floor. He felt light on his feet.
That night was the harvest festival, his favorite celebration. Birds flew parallel to his route, weaving between trees and singing joyfully. His heart was lifted.
He jogged to the gates, and the guards bowed their heads as they pulled them open. Within was hustle and bustle, the autumn chaos that Legolas reveled in.
People greeted him as he passed them, and he greeted them in return. The halls were decorated in the fall leaves of Mirkwood, and elves sold their autumn wares in the great halls.
Products of the successful harvest, as well as clothing, jewelry. Young elflings ran around him and giggled, hair and fabric all Legolas could see before they were gone.
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