Legolas was sitting by himself, polishing his sniper rifle with a look of intense concentration on his face.

"What are you doing?" Éowyn asked.

“Oh, shit!” said Legolas as he turned his head. “How’d you learn to sneak around like that? I didn’t even hear you coming.”

Éowyn shrugged innocently.

Legolas composed himself and went back to polishing the barrel. "Well, anyway, I’m just giving my trusty rifle some much-needed TLC. It's been through a lot of battles and I like to make sure it's in tip-top condition."

Éowyn peered over Legolas's shoulder. "Ah, that's quite the weapon you've got there."

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Legolas beamed with pride. "It’s a bad-ass piece of elven engineering. It's sleek design and a special grip allow me to hold it steady for long periods of time. The barrel is made of the finest steel and the scope is ranged for over a mile. And let's not forget about the shiny silver finish - it's almost as pretty as a bottle of miruvor. But don't let its good looks fool you, this baby can take out an orc from a hundred yards away with precision. It's the ultimate weapon."

Éowyn nodded. "I see. And have you had much success with it in battle?"

Legolas chuckled. "Are you serious? I've taken out more orcs with this rifle than I can count. And let me tell you, it's a hell of a lot more satisfying than hacking away at them with a sword."

Legolas suddenly paused and turned green, rushing off to the side to vomit. Éowyn watched in disgust as Legolas heaved, then turned back to her with a sheepish grin.

Éowyn sighed. "Don’t you think it’s time to stop drinking? You know we can't afford any mistakes, Legolas."

"Don't worry, Éowyn. I'll be fine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some more polishing to do."