Warning - This chapter is NC-17, and has a little bit o' BDSM for fun.
When Legolas arrived at the clearing where the Fellowship often took meals together, he was surprised to discover that a feast had been prepared. Lights were hung from branches of the mallyrn, casting pools of light and shadow over the shifting crowds below. Elves were dressed in their finest, minstrels had gathered and they played softly in the background. It was an atmosphere completely different from the mourning when they arrived. Tables had been moved to the edges of the clearing and they fairly bowed with the weight of the platters they held. The air was redolent with the scent of food – thick slices of meat, soft cheeses, bread still warm from the oven, fresh greens and autumn vegetables – potatoes, celery root, carrots, squash – flagons of lightly spiced wine and water fresh from the stream. At one end all of the desserts even a hungry hobbit could desire – honey cakes and buttery pastries and rich, sweetened iced cream, sliced apples drizzled with honey and strawberries in cream. Legolas was not surprised to find that all four hobbits and Gimli had already arrived. They waved him over, faces wreathed in smiles, but as he crossed the clearing the revelers shifted, revealing Boromir. He stood on the sidelines, watching. He held neither food nor drink, so Legolas filled both plate and goblet before making his apologies to the hobbits and joining Boromir where he stood alone.