Dawn is a Feeling
Word Count: 1,202
Rating: K+/PG
Disclaimer: Normally I'm wittier, but... I got nothing. I would say I own nothing, but that's not true. I created the original characters that are driving the plot, so... I guess I own something.
Summary: Legolas appreciates the dawn. His friends do not.
Author's Note: While I should be and really would like to be posting chapter sixteen of Storms in Middle Earth, I can't. The site will not let me manage my stories, so while I can post a new story, I can't add to any of them. So, out of that frustration, I ended up playing random with my music library and coming up with a song that could inspire a side piece.

The title comes from the song Dawn is a Feeling by the Moody Blues, and as soon as I stumbled across it again, I thought it was one that suited Legolas somehow. And if you look at the lyrics, you will find little bits that I wove into the story as I wrote it.

I was only going to do the first two parts, but then I thought about how Gimli would react to Legolas' love of the dawn, and I tried to write it. That may have been a mistake.

Dawn is a Feeling

"There is something beautiful about the dawn," Legolas said, smiling up at the sky. He liked waking to enjoy the morning, the soft dream-like nature of it, where the rest of the world was just starting to wake—or pass back into slumber.

"That kind of insanity can only belong to a wood elf," Firyavaryar grumbled, turning over to bury his face in his arms. "Make the sun go away."

Legolas could not stop the laughter that burst forth at his friend's reaction. He did not understand his friend's lack of connection to nature. He loved to be among the trees, to listen to the song of the earth and the whisper of the breeze. He enjoyed the feel of sunlight on his skin, and he could enjoy moments like this forever. The woods were as much his home as the palace of his father was.

"Come on. We should enjoy this time."

"I will enjoy it right here, in slumber, where any sane being would be," Varyar groused. "Why did I agree to come with you when you said you wanted to stay out in the woods?"

"Because you are as insane as I am."

"I am not," Varyar said. He lifted his head, shaking it with dismay. "Someday they will write songs about Prince Legolas the Mad, hundreds of verses of the darkness that he plunged his kingdom into, turning a once proud land into despair and mockery—"

"Stop that," Legolas said, shoving the other elfling over. Firyavaryar laid back, laughing, and Legolas shook his head. "I know why you came with me—you are too good a friend to allow me to go alone into danger. You are Varyar, brave protector of all."

"I should have let an orc get you in the night so that I could be sleeping now."

"You would never have let any orc get me."

Varyar gave him a dark look. "Do not be so certain of that, little prince."

Legolas smiled. "Oh, you can pretend that you are a grumpy old dwarf if you want, but I know you are not. Admit it—what could be more enjoyable than spending a beautiful day in the company of a good friend?"

"Sleep."

"Stubborn Avari."

"Insane wood elf."

They both started laughing. Contented, Legolas took a deep breath, inhaling the clean air of the forest. "I am glad to be an elf. This is the sort of day that I would like to have last a thousand years."

"Would that you let my sleep last a thousand years..."

"Dwarf," Legolas muttered. Varyar glared at him. He grinned. "Race you to the top of the tree?"

"No. I am not that stupid. The trees cheat for you."

Once more, laughter rang through the glade, and the prince of Greenwood decided that this was truly a great day, one he would remember forever.

"Estel."

"Go away, Legolas."

The elf smiled down at his mortal friend, shaking his head. "No. I cannot leave. You must open those stubborn human eyes and look. I feel almost as though I have gone into a dream myself. I have not seen a dawn like this in so long—it is as though Greenwood has returned. No one would call this land Mirkwood now."

Estel grunted. "If you are dreaming, can you please do it silently so that I can sleep?"

Legolas laughed. "I should call you a lazy mortal. How did you ever become a ranger with your sloth?"

The human glared at him, and Legolas grinned. He looked up at the sky, taking in a deep breath. He had not seen a morning like this in centuries, and he had missed them more than he realized. Estel, though, refused to see the beauty of the dawn, rolling over and pulling the hood of his cloak over his head to shut out the light.

"Come, Estel. This is not a morning to be wasted," Legolas said, prodding his friend in the side. He knew that this was not a day that would last, and even if he had a thousand years to spend admiring the dawn, he knew that Estel did not.

"Go away, crazy elf."

Legolas laughed. He should not find this so amusing, but Estel's behavior had reminded him of another morning like this, another day with a wonderful dawn and a grumpy friend.

Estel lifted his hood, looking up at him with suspicion. "Why are you grinning like that?"

"You reminded me of someone."

"Elladan?"

"No."

"Elrohir?"

"No."

"Ada?"

"You would not know him, mellon-nín, but in some ways you are very much alike," Legolas told him, his memories becoming bittersweet. He had not seen Firyavaryar in centuries, and he did miss the other elf's company. "He did not appreciate the dawn any more than you do."

"Only crazy elves like you like the dawn."

"Spend enough time with me, ranger, and I will have you appreciating much more than the morning air," Legolas said, shaking off the past. He was with Estel, and with the man named hope was the promise of many good things in the future. "Come. I will race you to the top of the tree."

"Gimli," Legolas said, hopping down to the dwarf's bedroll. "Open your eyes and look at that dawn. Is it not glorious?"

"Dawn? Confound you, elf, leave me be."

Legolas smiled as he leaned over the dwarf's face. He was used to the mortal's grumbling now, after many weeks of traveling together, and he did not mind it. "You are missing a dawn fine enough to rival the beauty of the Lady Galadriel."

"There is no such thing, you foolish tree-dweller. She is not to be compared to something as mundane as a morning—and a foul one this one is indeed."

"No, my friend, it is not foul," Legolas said, his eyes returning to the sky as he took in a deep breath of the clean air. "We have not risen with a red dawn. It is over, Gimli. The war and death. How can there be anything more beautiful?"

"Sleep," the dwarf grumbled. "Sleep would be beautiful indeed, you lunatic of an elf. Now leave me be and go admire your dawn up a blasted tree."

Legolas frowned, turning as he heard laughter behind him. He had only to glance over at Estel to see the man was amused by his attempts to rouse the dwarf. He sighed. "Do you not think it is a beautiful morning, Estel? It is the sort of day I would have last a thousand years."

"I would have this peace we have won last at least that long, yes," Estel said, smiling. "And I do not think there is anything crazy about that."

"There is nothing finer than spending a beautiful day in the company of good friends," Legolas said, thinking of other friends, ones long missing from his life, and his heart wanted to grow heavy with the ache of their absence. Estel seemed to know his thoughts, and Legolas gladly welcomed the distraction his next words offered.

"I agree," Estel said. "But you will not get me to climb any trees this time."

"Not even if I pointed out that you could win the race against the dwarf?"