Strider, wrapped in his traveling cloak, stretched his long legs out and chewed the stem of his pipe happily, watching the moving clouds with the practiced eye of a ranger. Gimli, sitting upright, cradled the bowl of his pipe like a goblet of wine, and sucked the stem in quick, short breaths, letting smoke roll from his nose like steam. Merry drew slow, savoring drafts, rolling the smoke around delicately before opening his mouth to let it escape in its own time. Pippin, eyes closed in enjoyment, tapped his bottom lip between pulls, as though reluctant to let the precious stuff get too far away while he relished the taste and texture of visible, taste laden breath.
Legolas sighed, a great exaggerated sigh, and stared down at his companions, shaking his head sadly. “I came outside to see what news the wind and sky carried. Alas, they carry only the tale that Longbottom Leaf masks even the voice of nature.”
Somehow, that made everyone decide to exhale at once, and Legolas found himself standing like a mist-shrouded mountain above their smoke-wreathed heads.
“ Elves!” grumbled the dwarf, companionably as Legolas turned to hide the smile that had stolen across his fair face.