200 words, minus the poem.

Brink of the Sea

: - :

Swirling colors.

An array of texture.

Moving forward then back,

just like the waves of the Sea.

: - :

Something touched his arm, pulling him back. Legolas jumped and looked down.

"You all right, lad?" Gimli stood beside him, a concerned look shadowing his face.

Legolas took a deep breath and ran his hand through the ends of his hair. "Aye." He nodded, and then gestured at the dancing court ladies. Their skirts billowed around them like sails caught in the wind. "Beautiful to watch, is it not?"

Gimli harrumphed, running his hand over his beard. Then he folded his arms across his chest. "Pah! Tall, flimsy creatures on stilted legs! And all that material! A waste, if you ask me. Trousers are far more practical." He nodded as if agreeing with himself. "It's a wonder they don't fall over each other."

Legolas smiled. Gimli never failed to shock him with his dwarven outlook on life. And that foreign outlook had once again brought him back from the brink of the Sea. He nodded, then he laughed as he realized what Gimli had said.

Legolas's grin turned wicked, and he nudged the dwarf with his elbow. "Are you saying that you would prefer Lady Galadriel in trousers?"

Gimli sputtered, and Legolas's grin widened as the dwarf's face flushed red.