Zohariel watched the Elf fiddle with his bow. She got on the defensive and took up a battle position, with a hand closed firmly round the rusted hilt of her sword.
"I asked you first," she growled. "Now be nice." The Elf seemed undaunted by her attitude, and simply bowed his head to her.
"I am King Legolas of Mirkwood," he said. Zohariel made a face like there was a bad smell under her nose and tossed her head backwards.
"Zohariel," she said, and spat just in front of the King's feet. "Like you care."
Legolas was amazed by this girl's lack of manners, and the way she seemed to decide someone's opinion on her before they even spoke.
Zohariel meanwhile, was trying not to stare at the Elf; he was so beautiful, and though Zohariel, when washed and dressed neatly, might look somewhat striking, she wasn't beautiful. But she knew a beautiful person or thing when she saw one.
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Amin i waith dangeren i firn i guinar. Amin ith a riel guldur.
You keep talking but all I ever hear is blah blah blah.
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