Those who took them were here or elsewhere? Legolas wondered, but the question stayed where it belonged, in his thoughts alone. It could have been a dangerous thing to go missing here, even when written in code.

"Determination is always a commendable trait," until it bordered on stubbornness, though it wasn't like Legolas could begrudge any other that, either, himself apparently as stubborn as even a dwarf, "And the passion for writing, even when the need is minimal. I am like you, in that I remember it all," very nearly from the day of his birth, over a thousand years ago, to the right here and right now. The memories were ever within easy reach, and the happy ones brought him much needed peace. "Yet I do not think I could do as you do, sit with patience and record it all, when— there is still so much to see all around us!"

Elves, ever renown for their patience, yet Legolas never thought of himself as such, not very much. He often lived in the moment, and oft a very, very intense moment.

Then, smiling, he dipped his head in a polite nod as he introduced himself, "I am Legolas, son of Thranduil."