Eric doesn't quite understand why Thranduil would be directing him to sit. He doesn't want to sit, in fact he wants to do the opposite of sit. He feels like running around, he feels like flying. He feels like rolling in the grass before this feeling leaves him. He does not know when he will get the next chance to feed from Thranduil. He does not know if he ever will, for that matter. Nothing is a guarantee. He will not waste this by sitting.

So he stops halfway to a sitting position and moves to stand again. "No," he says. "The air is fresh in here. We should enjoy it."