It was another vibrant day in the Yomeniampa Forest, a vibrancy that would not soon diminish. The entire world seemed green and alive, pulsing with life, the cooing of birds in the trees and growls of animals in the underbrush. Leonid Singh sat cross-legged against the base of a tree, his light brown, weathered cloak laying beside him, folded on the ground. He held a block of wood in one hand, a long, curved dagger in the other. his icy blue eyes were focused on the wood, going over its shape repeatedly. After all, Leonid, known affectionately as "Leo" by most of his friends, was a wood carver. Artists were rarely found in a world as violent as Arda, but Leo was one of the few who made his living by his imagination instead of casting magic or swinging a sword around. Although he was skilled enough with a dagger and relatively agile, the peaceful ranger usually preferred avoiding conflicts instead of taking part in them. So he spent much of his time here, hidden in the depths of the forest, making a small living by carving animals out of wood.

Leonid looked up into the canopy above, a small smile on his thin, honest face. Perfect. No one around. Just me and the forest... He turned his attention back to the block of wood and carefully sunk the dagger into it, starting to craft the shapeless piece into something special. His icy eyes seemed to melt as he worked on the wood, brightening more the longer he carved.

Solomon walked through the trees, each footstep slow and deliberate, his shortbow out and an arrow on the string. The Winter Solstice was here, and he had volunteered to join the slew of hunters venturing out into the Yomenïampa Forest in order to provide the main course for the party to be held in the elven city tonight. Solomon inhaled deeply, relishing the thick, earthy scent of the forest. He had been gone for far too long. First the war against the forces of darkness had carried him away, high above, to a bloody battle on the surface of the moon that still ruled over his nightmares. The fighting there had sparked something new in the usually quiet Quendi, a desire to go out and fight, a bloodlust that had consumed the elf and caused him to enter the Grand Ardian Tournament, hosted by Sartana, one of the Ainur of Arda. Although his meeting with various Ainur had intrigued the elf enough to travel the realm, visiting these demigods, he had returned to Yomenïampa for the solstice celebration in order to relax. And to see her again... Solomon smiled, remembering Kerian's joyful embrace when he entered the small house he had once shared with her and her father. He had been gone for far too long.

A strange sound caught Solomon's attention, a soft chokk that stood out from the normal cries of the forest. He frowned, wondering what it could be. Few of the other hunters had travelled out this far in the forest, and he was sure that no one else had followed this same path. The elf crouched, slowly moving through the thick foilage towards the sound. He soon came across a strange sight. A human male with toussled blonde hair was sitting quite comfortable against a tree, a thick block of wood in his hands. He wielded a long dagger expertly, whittling away at the wood. Solomon's eyes moved to the cloak at his side, which had several small carvings placed on it. He leaned closer in order to see the man's handiwork better, but accidentally stepped on a small stick. Solomon froze, watching the man to see if he had heard the slight noise.

Leonid set down his first carving, that of an eagle in flight, and gently picked up another block of wood. He went to work again, fighting the desire to hum as he carved. He was comfortable here, alone, with only his work to distract him. Soon this block resembled a little girl, her dress billowing out as she spun. He paused for a moment, looking at the small statue he held. His blue eyes once again turned to ice, the brightness gone, but not fast enough to hide a small flash of sadness. He set this carving aside too, twirling the dagger nimbly in his right hand before throwing it to his left. He stabbed into the next piece of wood forcibly, wincing at the noise it made. Leo shook his head sadly, realizing he had ruined the wood. When he spoke his voice was soft and gentle, the voice of a prent speaking to a child. "I'm sorry, little one. I did not mean to hurt you so. You have my forgiveness..." He set the damaged piece of wood beside the two completed carvings, sighing. He had not come out here to remember the past. It was not healthy.

A soft crack caught his attention. His eyes flickered to one side, squinting slightly. Apparently, he was not alone.The only question is... is this an animal or not? Leonid waited for a moment, but there was no rustle of a rabbit dashing away, no growl of a hunting panther. Most animals would have lft already, more scared of him than he was of them. No, it appeared as if he had a guest after all. He threw the dagger back to his right hand, considering his options. He could always just leave. But he did like this spot, and he had been here first. So he simply picked up another piece of wood and went to work, still watching the bush that was the source of the sound out of the corner of one eye.

Solomon felt the stranger's eyes slide over him, their gazes meeting for an instant. But the crouched man's eyes continued to roam, moving past the Quendi. Realizing he had been holding his breath, the elf exhaled as softly as he could manage, moving his foot off of the branch. Although he didn't feel like the diligent carver was dangerous, but his skill with the dagger was obvious. The elf moved through the thick underbrush as quietly as he could, eyes never leaving the woodcarver. First place down the toe. Feel the ground, make sure that there isn't any sticks or dry leavs that will make a noise. Then roll down your heel, placing your weight on the foot. Repeat. Repeat. His first hunting lessons echoed in his head as Solomon slowly moved to a spot with a better vantage point, watching the human warily.

The reason for his caution was also a consequence of his travels. The elf had quickly learned that his pointed ears and almond-shaped eyes marked him as a target to most other races on Arda, a fact the peace-loving scholar abhored. Solomon could easily filter out the murmured insults and even the shouted obscenities, but it was a lot harder to ignore thrown bottles and flashing knives. He had actually almsot died in a brawl in Lomedor due to his race, a desperate fight he and his companions had been lucky to escape. Now he was incredibly paranoid, although he doubted the ranger would be a huge threat. After all, he seemed comfortable here in the Yomeniampa Forest, the homeland of the elves. Any human who came here looking for a fight would probably get himself killed long before reaching the suspended streets of the ancient elven city. Solomon crouched, relaxing his grip on the bowstring slightly, simply watching the man as he worked.