Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

Author’s Notes: I’m a fan fic vet, but this is my first LotR attempt. I haven’t posted anything in years, so I expect I’ll be a little rusty. Constructive criticism is highly appreciated! And believe me, I know the difference between criticism and flames! Don’t worry about offending me!

This plot draws heavily from “The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen” in appendix a. It would probably be helpful if you are familiar with the story outlined there. And while Aragorn and Arwen’s tale is a love story, this story here isn’t necessarily romantic. It’s set in the time between Aragorn’s finding of his true name and his leaving Imladris to journey into the wilds. My apologies to any Tolkien scholars who will, no doubt, find this story to be rubbish.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and use everything without permission. Prosecute away!

Therefore, I Have Hope

When Aragorn heard that Wood-elves had entered Imladris, he betook himself to the courtyard. He found himself a secluded bench, hidden from view by a very curtain of trailing flowers. And although one could not see the bench from the courtyard, the bench could easily see the courtyard.

He waited for a dozen or so minutes before a company on horses came within sight. Seven Elves with dark, brown hair and one Elf with golden hair compromised the party. Aragorn found himself quite taken with the magnificent bay the golden Elf now stood next to.

All of the Wood-elves had dismounted and allowed their mounts to be led away (although several looked unhappy about it). Erestor stepped forward to greet the guests. Aragorn could not hear the conversation, but he saw the golden Elf reply. So that one is the leader of the party, Aragorn surmised.

Aragorn could tell by the colors and style of their clothing that they were not of Lothlórien. They hailed from Taur e-Ndaedelos[1], he guessed. Aragorn had never met one of Thranduil’s folk.

Erestor made a sweeping motion with his hands. The golden Elf gestured in reply. To Aragorn’s complete surprise, Erestor embraced the golden Elf and kissed his forehead. Then Erestor led the way into the Last Homely House, the Wood-elves close behind him.

“It is not considered polite to spy, my son,” said Lord Elrond from behind him. Aragorn grimaced to the flowers in front of him. He was exceptional among men for his stealth and awareness, and still Elrond could sneak up on him.

“Who are those Wood-elves, my lord?” Aragorn asked, rising and facing Elrond. He fell into step with his foster father as they walked towards the Last Homely House. “I can tell they are not from Lothlórien.”

“You are correct. They are come from Taur e-Ndaedelos on my request.”

“If you can tell me, why?” Aragorn looked at Elrond out of the corner of his eye.

Elrond smiled. It occurred to Aragorn that it was a sad smile. “In due time, Aragorn. I dare say you shall know sooner than you wish.”

That silenced Aragorn. Elrond rarely called him by his true name, even within the safety of Imladris, for fear of the Enemy. The time was not yet right for his identity to be revealed, the Elf lord continually impressed, although it was the right time for Aragorn himself to know of his lineage.

“My lord,” said Aragorn, suddenly wary. “Will the Wood-elves treat me ill because of my race or lineage?”

Elrond’s eyebrows raised. “Many things have been said of Thranduil and his folk, Estel. Do not believe all that you hear. Come, it is near to evening meal and you have yet to prepare.”

Aragorn made himself as tidy and presentable as a Man could be in a company of Elves. He felt Elrond’s nod of approval on him as he entered the dining hall. Aside from himself and Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel sat at the table as was their wont. Arwen Undómiel, daughter of Elrond, sat at Elrond’s left. Their golden-haired visitor sat at Elrond’s right.

The golden Elf stood when Aragorn entered. The Man briefly noted that the Elf’s green and brown clothing was every bit as fine and rich as Lord Elrond’s.

Said Elrond: “Estel, may I present Legolas Greenleaf of Taur e-Ndaedelos. Legolas, my child, you are aware of Estel’s true name, thus it does not merit repeating.” Elrond motioned for Aragorn to seat himself.

“It is an honor to meet you, Estel,” said Legolas in a charming accent.

“The honor is mine,” replied Aragorn, more curious than ever to find the reason for this Wood-elf’s appearance.

Lord Elrond smiled after several minutes of watching Aragorn hold himself back from questioning their guest. Once all plates were full, Elrond turned to Legolas. “Are your warriors satisfactorily settled, Legolas?”

“Ay, most comfortably, my lord. You are a gracious host, as ever.”

Arwen then questioned Legolas on the health of his family. Aragorn learned that Legolas’s family, specifically his father, fared well, yet he found no names that would identify their visitor. Obviously a noble and on easy terms with the lords and lady of Imladris, Legolas’s station mystified Aragorn. Perhaps he was an ambassador of sorts.

“You arrived earlier than we expected, dear Legolas,” said Glorfindel. “I trust you were not hindered on your journey?”

Merriment swept across Legolas’s face. “We had a most boring journey, my dear lord Glorfindel. We did not smell an Orch, let alone fight one.”

“That is as it should be,” said Elrond. “It seems that even yet that which happened in the year of the fall of the Dragon has kept the mountain passes clear of goblins.”

“Mayhap they have left the mountains. Yet I would rather them there where it is unpopulated than in the woods of my home, where foul beings are ever multiplying. The southernwood near Dol Guldur is nearly overrun with goblins, spiders, and evil creatures. Even on patrols, our warriors do not venture near the tower.” Legolas’s face grew troubled, even as he quietly tucked away his dinner in the manner of one whose meals are routinely interrupted. “The Enemy’s fell creatures are ever pushing north to my lord’s stronghold. We are hard pressed to keep them back.”

“Is the situation very tense?” Glorfindel asked.

“The Shadow grows. My lord did not easily allow my warriors and me to make this trip, for every Elf that knows how to wield a weapon is needed. Even so, the light of my people will not be defeated. We love our wood all the more for the blood and tears we spill defending it. Indeed, nothing is as cherished as that which one needs must fight for.”

Aragorn felt admiration and respect grow as he listened to the Wood-elf. He had always known about the Forest’s plight, but as he had never met an Elf from there, it had never meant much of anything to him. He could do naught about it, so he did not much think on it. That this Elf in front of him faced horror and shadow every day, yet remained merry, made an impression on Aragorn.

It happened that Legolas looked at Arwen and saw the shadow on her face. “I apologize, Undómiel,” he said softly. “It is not something that should be spoken of at meal times.”

The rest of the meal was spent in conversation between the Imladris lords and Legolas. They puzzled Aragorn exceedingly. With Erestor, Legolas spoke as a fellow advisor, one that held his lord’s ears. They spoke of foreign relationships, crops, trading, and so on. Glorfindel mentioned weapons, or horses, and Legolas became a warrior (and it seemed to Aragorn they were very much like brothers). And when Elrond spoke with the Wood-elf, they seemed many things: teacher and student, fellow rulers, father and child, healer and patient, even. Arwen did not much speak, but she shared many long looks with her father, and to Aragorn’s slight jealousy, Legolas also.

The meal ended, leaving Aragorn with many clues that did not fit together. He wished Elladan and Elrohir were at home, but alas, they were riding with the Rangers of the North. Perhaps he would seek out Arwen later.

“Legolas, as I trust you and Glorfindel shall attempt to kill each other upon the morrow, I would speak with you tonight,” said Lord Elrond, standing.

Legolas stood as well. “As you wish, my lord. I shall speak with my warriors, and then meet you in your study.”

Rising, Glorfindel said, “If you should not mind my company, my good Legolas, I shall accompany you. I saw my old friend Aerhos in your party.”

Again, Aragorn saw merriment flood Legolas’s face. “Your company would be a pleasure, my dear Lord Glorfindel.” They left together.

“Arwen, my daughter, I would speak with you,” said Elrond. She acquiesced silently and accompanied him.

It was just he and Erestor left. Erestor sighed—a happy sigh—and said to him, “What a delight it is to have that dear boy within this house again. It has been too long—many years.” He, too, then departed, leaving Aragorn alone to ponder his new acquaintance. Soon he found himself in the company of his mother, where he passed a pleasant evening, happily oblivious to the discussion taking place in Elrond’s study.

When Legolas repaired to the study, he found Elrond seated at the desk and Arwen standing near the window looking out. “Legolas, please sit,” said Elrond. Legolas did so. “I believe you both know what it is I wish to speak of.” Legolas nodded and glanced at Arwen, who remained silent. “I am confident that you well know your adar’s wishes, Legolas, therefore, though absent, his presence is felt.”

Elrond folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “It is well known that it was the fond wish of both your naneths that time would see your hearts become one.”

Arwen made an impatient noise by her window.

“Arwen, my beloved, will you not sit?” beseeched Elrond. She sighed and obeyed, gracefully moving to the chair next to Legolas’s. “My children, I will not demand your betrothal. I simply ask that you look from my perspective, from Thranduil’s perspective, and see what we see. The uniting of our houses, the fulfillment of happy hopes, and the completing of two hearts. I am convinced, as is Thranduil, that in time, you will come to love each other as husband and wife. And though we cannot be sure, I believe that whether she be in Mandos’ Halls or in Valinor, your naneths will know and rejoice.” Elrond took a moment to search their faces. They both exuded misery.

“As you both know, it has been many years since this subject has been broached. Indeed, we have not spoken of it since the day you journeyed to Lórien, my daughter, to visit with your naneth’s kin. Being it that neither of you bonded during that time, Thranduil and I are hopeful that this is a sign you are meant for each other.

“I have,” he continued, “this missive from Thranduil, sent with you, Legolas, that seconds everything I say. My dear Arwen, perhaps I should read an excerpt to you, to show you how Thranduil welcomes your entrance to his family.” He began to read: “Tell Lady Arwen how fervently I pray she accepts my son’s suit. She will be as welcome and beloved as my own late daughter. Indeed, she will fill the void that the losses of my wife and daughter have left in mine and Legolas’s hearts, and even in my other son’s. Her charms and graces are well known in my household. She is a jewel, and you need not fear, Lord Elrond, that we will not treasure her with all of our might.”

During the reading Legolas had reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if he had a headache. Arwen looked near tears. This is not going well, Elrond conceded.

“King Thranduil is very flattering,” Arwen managed. “Yet, I cannot accept.”

“My children, I do not want your answers tonight. I understand that this is a delicate situation of great importance. Give yourself several days to become reacquainted.”

Understanding that they were dismissed, both fled the library.

Legolas wearily retraced his steps to where his warriors were quartered. Glorfindel was still visiting with Aerhos in the room that Aerhos shared with Gildae, who was trying to sleep. Legolas cast himself onto Aerhos’s bed.

“Did Lord Elrond approach you so soon?” Aerhos asked, forced to move his legs to make room for his prince. “I did not expect him to make a move until morning at the earliest.”

Legolas groaned and buried his face into the coverlet. “Normally it is the maiden that is interested in me and I can find ways to ignore her. Here the maiden wishes it just as little as I, but we are constantly pushed together by our adars and even our naneths, who no longer dwell within Middle Earth, mind you.”

“Poor leaflet,” Glorfindel laughed. “Why do you not find a maid that loves you whom you love back?”

“Do not call me leaflet unless you want to begin our duel early.” He raised his head and glared at Aerhos. “And if any faithful warrior of Taur-nu-Fuin[2] should remember that nickname, he would do well to forget it.”

“Consider it forgotten. The males of my family have always been known to have faulty memories,” Aerhos said easily. “For instance, the times my adar forgot that he pretended to be giving you lessons while you were out hunting without permission. Or the time I forgot I stood guard while you and your brother hefted treats from the kitchens. We remember none of that. I am sure that I do not remember that my prince, easily my junior by a millennia, threatens my existence should I one day remember these things.”

“No, it would not do to remember that,” agreed Glorfindel. “Really, leaflet, reduced to threats?”

Aerhos amended, “I did not say that, my friend. I said I do not remember any such threats.”

“You also do not remember that you have a roommate who prefers to sleep at night,” Gildae moaned from his bed.

“As I said, faulty memories,” Aerhos concluded.

“You are all doing nothing to ease my situation,” Legolas growled. “And you are keeping Gildae awake.”

“Thank you, my prince. Your concern is appreciated,” Gildae said.

Legolas continued, “If your input helped, you could talk as loud as you wished. But since you are coming up with nothing useful, Gildae and I are both annoyed with you.”

“Exceedingly annoyed,” said Gildae.

“Thank you, Gildae,” said Legolas. He stole Aerhos’s pillow and tucked it under his cheek. “I will be up all night figuring how to tell my adar that I refused the lady Arwen’s hand for the nth time, that I respect her and love her only as a sister.” He grimaced at Glorfindel. “You might have to kill me tomorrow. I do not think I shall be able to go home after this.”

Glorfindel stood. “Anything to please. And now I will retire to prepare myself for our battle. Until tomorrow, Thranduilion.”

“If you still keep up your nightly wine habit with Erestor, could you please tell him that I am in grave distress and am in dire need of his wisdom,” Legolas requested. Glorfindel laughed and nodded and departed. To Aerhos, Legolas said, “Erestor could tell to my adar of my death and make it sound like good news.”

“My prince, if I might remind you, you have beautiful quarters of your own, with a bed twice this size,” said Aerhos, trying to find a comfortable position around Legolas. “Go make use of it.”

“It is far away,” the prince said into the pillow.

“In that case, I shall betake myself there. It is only fair that I get your bed since you are in mine.”

Legolas groaned and sat up. “There is no need to be so greedy, Aerhos. It is not befitting a warrior.” Standing, he stretched like a cat. “I will see you both on the morrow, assuming I survive the night.”

Aragorn woke hours after the sun had risen, consequently hours after the Elves had partaken of breakfast. He satisfied himself with a piece of fruit that he ate on his way to the training grounds. He hoped to find someone to spar with. If no one was willing, he would practice with his bow.

A crowd had gathered on the training grounds. At the center of the crowd, Glorfindel and Legolas dueled, each wielding a broad sword with infinite grace. Aragorn felt his mouth slide open in awe. Never had he seen such an exhibition of deadly grace and skill, so raw, yet so controlled. They were two whirling, golden creatures. Every move was calculated and perfect.

Legolas made a mistake. The crowd gasped as he swung too far to the left. Glorfindel ducked and drove his hilt into Legolas’s forearm with enough force to make Aragorn wince. Legolas jumped backwards out of reach not a moment later.

“Is that your best, leaflet?” taunted Glorfindel, bouncing on his toes as he waited for the perfect moment to attack. Legolas snarled at the comment and lunged, sword swinging for Glorfindel’s right side. At the last moment, he changed the direction of his swing with strength that amazed Aragorn. Glorfindel barely blocked it. They fought evenly for several minutes.

Lo! Legolas made the same mistake as before. This time Glorfindel felled his opponent to the ground and stood over him, tip of his blade touching Legolas’s neck.

“Only the round!” cried Legolas, jumping to his feet and glaring. “There are still two rounds left.”

Glorfindel handed his sword to an onlooker. “Would you like a breather before the next round, leaflet, or are you able to continue?” he asked as Legolas gave his blade to Gildae.

“Hand-to-hand or archery. You may pick which you want to lose first,” said Legolas heatedly, ignoring Glorfindel’s last comment.

“Hand-to-hand, then, Master Legolas,” replied Glorfindel. He stripped his tunic off. Legolas did the same.

Here the warriors forgot their Elven grace. Caught up in passion, Legolas leapt at Glorfindel. It quickly turned into a wrestling match, more ferocious than when the twin sons of Elrond went at each other. Aragorn surmised that the stronger of the two—which appeared to be Legolas—would win. They rolled on the grass and dirt, a tangle of golden hair and flailing limbs.

With a howl, Legolas flipped Glorfindel and pinned him face down into the grass. The Elves watching began counting. Glorfindel kicked and squirmed, but Legolas’s grip would not be broken. The Wood-elf won the match.

They both rose slowly. Glorfindel’s right eye was already big and puffy. He wore the same sulk that Legolas had shown after the sword fighting. For his part, Legolas smirked at Glorfindel, ignoring his own bloody nose.

“We are tied now,” said Legolas. “There is only one more round.” Glorfindel glared at him. “Would you like a breather, my old friend?”

“Give me my bow!” snapped Glorfindel. A spectator hastily placed said weapon in his outstretched hand. Legolas called for his bow. The two stalked to the archery range, oblivious to how their carriages mimicked each other. The crowd of Elves followed them.

They were in the midst of choosing their targets, when Lossenfân, one of Arwen’s maiden friends, came along side of Aragorn and drew him away. “Arwen greatly desires to speak with you, Estel,” she said softly. She led him to the same bench from where he had watched the Wood-elves arrive. Arwen sat there, a book in hand. Lossenfân left them alone. Arwen beckoned him to sit beside her. He did so and waited for her to speak.

“Estel, I have no right to ask this of you,” said she, “yet I feel you are the only one that can help me. Many things have been said about asking Elves for counsel, and I have found it all to be true. You and I are nearly brother and sister. I do not fear asking your counsel.”

“How much do you know of Legolas, Estel?” she asked, closing her book. Her grey eyes searched his face.

“I know nothing of him, beyond that he is a lord of Taur e-Ndaedelos.” Her question puzzled him.

She kept her gaze on his face. “I have known him almost all of my life. His adar is Thranduil, the Wood-elf king. Legolas’s naneth and mine grew up together in Lórien. Our parents always wished that one day we would wed.”

Aragorn felt as though someone had struck him. He tried desperately to hide his reaction from the maiden that he had no claim on. “Will you? Wed, I mean.”

“I have always loved Legolas, but only as a brother,” she replied. “ I do not know what to do. My adar says that given time we would come to love each other in the way that a husband and wife should.”

No, you would not! Aragorn cried inwardly. He could never love you the way I do!

“That is the reason for his visit. My adar brought us together last night in his study. I fear that this time I may give in.” She lowered her head. Aragorn thought he saw tears shining in her eyes.

“It is not so simple,” she sighed. “My adar spoke with me this morning. He said that the Wood-elves are losing reasons to fight. Slowly they are succumbing to the Shadow. The Nazgûl have retaken Dol Guldur. More and more are journeying to the Grey Havens. This marriage would bring hope, something to look to.”

“That is not your responsibility. They have no claim upon you. If the warriors cannot fight the Shadow, then it is better for the Elves to leave before needless lives are spent.” I love you! His heart hammered so loud he wondered if she could hear it.

She reclaimed eye contact. “What would you do? If you knew that marriage could end or save lives?”

The debate raged in her eyes. Yet, she nodded and rose. “I thank you, Estel. Your words have given me something to ponder over.” She laughed ruefully. “I fear I shall have to explain to King Thranduil why I refused his son yet again.”

His heart soared as he watched her take her book and walk, nay, float to the house. He sat and pondered on this Wood-elf prince, this Legolas, that sought to claim Arwen Undómiel hand. Yet again, she had said. Legolas obviously did not give up easily. Valar, Aragorn could not believe that Legolas and Elrond tried to guilt Arwen into the marriage. That they would stoop to such a mean device enraged Aragorn.

He arrived on the training field just as Legolas won the archery competition with a truly impressive shot. The Wood-elves began to sing of the bow of Legolas as Glorfindel stared in amazement a the target being drawn near. Indeed, his own silver-fletched arrow lodged in the innermost ring but one. Legolas’s green and brown arrow (Does the dratted Elf employ any other color? Aragorn wondered.) proudly pierced the centermost spot of the smallest ring.

“You won,” Glorfindel stated in a surprised voice, to the delight of Legolas, whose nose still bled. “You have improved with your bow, leaflet.”

Legolas laughed. Victory obviously suited him. “So you say as if I have never beaten you with my bow. You forget, my old friend, that you have yet to beat me in archery.”

Glorfindel laughed also, accepting his defeat with good grace. “Ai, you are right. But you have gotten stronger. You put up more of a fight with the battle-ax than ever before.”

“Yes, and you have improved your horsemanship. Come,” said Legolas, throwing his arm around Glorfindel’s shoulders. “I am famished. Mayhap it is time for luncheon.”

The two set off for the House of Elrond. Aragorn followed, anxious to learn more of both the duel and its victor. Elrond met them at the door.

“Absolutely not,” said Elrond, refusing them admittance to the dining hall. “You are both covered in filth. I could smell you from the fields. Legolas, you have blood all over your face. I suppose he broke your nose again.” He sighed. “Tidy yourself up, then come see me. I shall do what I can. Luncheon will not be served for almost an hour.”

Legolas sang as he walked to his chamber. Adar will at least be happy with me for defeating Glorfindel, he thought to himself. Once in his rooms, Legolas ran a bath and peeled off his soiled clothing. He bathed quickly, rinsing his skin of sweat and dirt. His nose had stopped bleeding. He quickly dressed himself. When he bent to pull his boots on, he saw crimson spots drop onto the carpet. He clasped his hand to his nose only to catch a handful of blood. “Valar,” he growled. “That is the third time he has broken my nose!” With his free hand he grabbed an under tunic and used it to soak up the blood.

With the tunic to his face, he made his way to the healing rooms. Elrond waited in one of the rooms for him. Legolas sat on one of the high pallets and let Elrond pull away the tunic.

“My advice: refrain from this duel in the future, or he will hit your nose so hard it relocates.”

Legolas winced again. Elrond did not know if it was from his ministrations or the topic. “Yes, my lord.”

Elrond avoided the grey eyes that followed his face intently. “Estel, my mortal son, loves Arwen. He does not speak of it, but it is in his eyes. And now it is in hers. She will die a mortal’s death, like Lúthien, if a stop is not put to it. She does not yet love him wholly. But she will if you do not save her.”

“Take her as your wife. If she is bound to you, she will not give her heart to a mortal. Her honor and her respect for you will prevent her from going any further down that road which only leads to bitterness.” Elrond caught Legolas’s gaze. “She will die, Legolas.” He took scraps of cloth and handed them to the Wood-elf. “Put them in your nose. You know how by now.” Legolas obeyed. “Think on what I have told you. Now, it is time for luncheon.”

They walked in silence towards the dining hall. Legolas’s mind raced. Arwen to love a mortal man and to die a mortal death? It did not seem possible. None of the things Elrond had just spoken made sense.

Arwen already sat at the table. His eyes immediately found her, searched her for evidence of what he had just been told. She was pale, he saw, and she would not look at him. He felt the Dúnadan’s eyes on him, as well as Elrond’s. The tension nearly strangled him. He looked across the table to Glorfindel for help.

“My friend Aerhos and I had a pleasant conversation last night, dear Legolas,” said Glorfindel. “He told me a charming story about two Elves and the Enchanted River.”

Legolas feigned laughter. “Aerhos tells many stories, none of which can be believed. It is not his fault, poor Elf. His father is a tutor and tells many stories himself. It is my belief that the trait was passed down.”

“It is a shame that a tutor should have memory problems the way Aerhos’s poor father does,” Glorfindel said, continuing the last night’s conversation. “It must be very inconvenient.”

“I have actually found his problems convenient from time to time,” laughed Legolas, not answering Elrond.

“Perhaps it is not his memory that ails him, but his eyesight,” Glorfindel suggested. Elrond caught on and returned to silence.

“Perhaps you are right,” replied Legolas. “And perhaps Aerhos’s problems are simply explained by insanity.” Estel still glared at him. He resisted the urge to twitch.

“Really?” Glorfindel smirked. “I was under the impression that you already knew it. Or perhaps you are the one with the memory problems. I have heard that the Enchanted River causes memory blanks.”

Legolas tried to eat, but his appetite failed him. His fork made it half way to his mouth, then fell back to his plate. Glorfindel noticed and began his story to draw attention to himself.

“As Aerhos told it to me, two Elves, brothers who were by millennia old enough to know better, had a contest one day. They were to climb a tree whose limbs hung over the Enchanted River and swing themselves to the other side. The first Elf did so without mishap. But when the second Elf was in a branch right over the middle of the river, the branch, being barely more than a twig, could not stand the strain and broke, plunging the Elf into the River.”

Legolas could not bear Estel’s eyes on him any more. He looked up and sent a glare at the Man who was killing Arwen. Estel looked surprised but did not look away. Legolas returned his frustrated his gaze to his own full plate. The food on it looked revolting.

Glorfindel’s story droned on, but no one listened to it. It may be doubted whether Glorfindel himself listened to it. Legolas nearly sagged in relief when the meal ended. Estel disappeared down the hall. Legolas was not sorry to see him and his scrutinizing eyes go. Elrond requested Glorfindel to accompany him to see to some matter of state. Alone with Arwen, Legolas found himself grow shy.

For the first time that afternoon, she raised her eyes to him, only to find his downcast. “You did not eat,” she said softly.

“Legolas, tell me truthfully as an old friend, what is the situation like in your home?”

He sought her eyes. “It grows desperate. With the return of the Nazgûl, my people are fleeing to the Havens. The Shadow seeks to overcome our warriors until they cannot function. Even so, I have faith that we will overcome. We love our land and want it more than the Enemy ever could, and so we will win.”

“Ay. They find things of hope and cling to them. They draw their strength from the things of light and beauty. As long as there is beauty in Arda, we will prevail.”

She stood and smiled. Her beauty struck him again. Could he let her die when he had a chance of preventing it?

“Thank you for speaking the truth to me, dear Legolas,” she said. Then, almost shyly, “I hope you know that I do love and respect you.”

In the time before the afternoon meal, Aragorn betook himself to his mother’s chambers, for she enjoyed his visits when he was in Imladris. Since learning of his heritage several months ago, he had ridden with the twin sons of Elrond and the Rangers frequently. The twins had gone without him on their current forage, for he had been recovering from a particularly severe cold when they left.

As he sat with and talked to Gilraen, his thoughts frequented to Arwen and the disclosure she had made to him. He wished that Elrohir and Elladan were at home, for he was sure they would never allow their beloved sister to marry for any reason less than pure love. Gilraen soon perceived that her son’s thoughts strayed, and to what object those thoughts strayed to, she believed (and rightly so) that she knew. Not wanting to pain him, she remained silent on the subject.

At the time for luncheon, he went by himself to the dining hall, for his mother preferred to eat in her own chambers. When he arrived, Glorfindel and Arwen had preceded him. They arrived just as he took his seat. Legolas had bits of material stuck in his nostrils. His face was drawn and very pale.

Aragorn noticed over the course of the meal that Legolas’s glance constantly flickered to Arwen as if he were searching for something. She also seemed pale and adverted her eyes to avoid his gaze.

It was an awkward meal. Elrond and Arwen were nearly completely silent. Glorfindel and Legolas tried to make up for their silence by being very gay, but it did not work. Aragorn noticed that today Legolas barely ate more than a few bites, despite having claimed to be famished not so long ago.

Legolas caught Aragorn looking at him and sent a glare back. It took Aragorn by surprise, for he knew of nothing he had done that would deserve the Wood-elf’s anger. Had Legolas found out of Arwen’s consulting him earlier?

All were relieved when enough time had passed for it to be polite to end the meal. Aragorn collected his weapons from his chambers, intending to collect his thoughts on the training field. The archery field was empty. He spent a good deal of time shooting at the targets he imagined were the Prince Legolas’s head. He had sufficiently calmed down when Lossenfân ran towards him.

AN: This part has been revised a wee bit. Nothing too critical; just a few clarifying sentences here and there.

Elrond was in his study with Erestor and Glorfindel, discussing one of those matters that Elven lords found pressing. When Arwen and Legolas entered, Erestor and Glorfindel silently left. The two stood before his desk.

“Ada,” said Arwen, “I am willing to wed Legolas, should he so desire it.”

Elrond looked expectantly at Legolas, who studied the floor. “I, too, am willing,” said the Wood-elf.

This was everything that Elrond wanted, what Thranduil wanted, even what Celebrían and Glorûniel¹ had wanted. So why did he feel sad? Mustering up good spirits, he stood and walked to where his daughter stood. Embracing her, he kissed her forehead. “I am very happy and proud,” he said softly. He then embraced Legolas. “I have long looked upon you as a son. I am happy that shall soon be truth.”

He stepped back and noting their solemn expressions said, “If you wish, I will announce your betrothal and notify Thranduil.”

Arwen would have sagged with relief if not for Legolas’s strong arm holding her upright. “Thank you, Ada. That would be good.”

Legolas, upon finding himself alone, retrieved his weapons from his chambers. He strapped his quiver and bow on his back, slung his sword to his side, and sheathed his long knife at his hip. He nearly ran to the stables, where Ruinlith, his horse, greeted him enthusiastically.

“Well met, my love,” he murmured, leading her out of her stall. “How do you fair in the stables of Imladris?” Outside of the stables, he mounted her with every intention of going for a peaceful gallop. Ruinlith loved to run. Once they were beyond the buildings, Legolas gave Ruinlith her head. For several wonderful hours there in the peaceful valley, Legolas did not have to think.

He and Ruinlith stayed in the valley until it grew dark. He sat by a stream to watch the sun set, Ruinlith grazing behind him. This time of day always reminded him of his naneth, who had departed for the Halls of Mandos nearly five hundred years ago. She loved the setting sun and all the colors in the sky. He always felt close to her when the pinks and purples of the evening filled the sky. “May the stars shine upon you in Mandos’ Halls, Naneth,” he murmured. “May you see the sunset, which you love so well.”

He wondered what she would think of his betrothal. Would she rejoice in that her and Celebrían’s happy dreams were coming to fruition. Or would she perceive that he was not happy? What would Celebrían think?

Oh, Valar. Lady Galadriel would be his daernaneth-in-law. He wondered if his adar had ever considered it. Thranduil certainly did not revere the Lady of the Golden Wood.

Legolas had always imagined that one day he would find a maiden in the woods of his home. She would be just right for him, and he would be just right for her. They would wed, raise Elflings, and eventually sail to Valinor where they would spend the rest of eternity together. Would he have any of that with Arwen?

“Mae govannen, Thranduilion!” a cheerful voice rang out. On the other side of the stream, Elrohir and Elladan stood, watering their horses.

“My dear twins,” said Legolas, standing, “do not ask questions to which you already know the answers.”

“So you beat the old rascal? Good for you! How many rounds did it take?” The twins led their horses across the stream.

Legolas shrugged. “Thirteen. Although I should say that we were tied after twelve.”

“Who held the longest handstand this year?” Elladan asked. “Elrohir and I have a wager on it.”

“Glorfindel did, yet only because he nearly tore my arm off the round before.”

“Have we missed my adar try to wed you and Arwen, or is it yet to come?” Elrohir asked while giving Elladan a small dagger from his boot. “Elbereth, Elladan, that is the third dagger you have taken from me this month.” The twins fixed stares on Legolas when no answer came to Elrohir’s question. “Legolas?”

Legolas found himself staring down a long knife wielded by a pale Elladan. “Repeat yourself,” said the eldest twin, clutching the Wood-elf’s tunic with his free hand.

Elladan released Legolas’s tunic. “Sit,” he ordered, motioning with his knife. “Tell me every single word that passed between my adar, my sister, and you.”

And so Legolas sat against a tree, guarded by the twins. He felt like a prisoner. He told them of the last night in Elrond’s study, then his meeting earlier today with Elrond. Before his telling was half over, Elrohir had begun pacing.

“I cannot believe he would tell you that,” Elrohir seethed. “He cannot know if she will love Estel back. He would rather her be miserable for the rest of time married to you than chance losing her. And should she love Estel, she will love and be loved.”

Elladan sighed and sheathed his knife. “If only Naneth were here. She would take care of Adar. I am sorry, Legolas. I should not have drawn my weapon on you.” He sighed again. “If he told you that Arwen was in danger, what did he tell her?”

Legolas paled. “She asked me about Taur e-Ndaedelos, what it is like there. Ai, I am a fool! I told her exactly what Elrond wanted me to. I told her the truth!?”

“Come,” ordered Elladan, extending a hand to help Legolas stand. “It is time that your betrothal was broken.”

“Estel!” cried Elrohir. “Elladan, Estel must be beside himself! We must make haste!”

Legolas and Arwen are betrothed! Legolas and Arwen are betrothed! Legolas and Arwen!

Aragorn knew he was going to be sick. He murmured a few words to Lossenfân and stumbled to a cache of trees nearby. Once there his body gave up and began retching. Losing all strength in his limbs, he collapsed to his knees. He clutched the birch he knelt next to as his head swam.

Arwen to wed that Elf-prince? Surely she deserved no less, he tried to convince himself. Even his jealous eyes could not deny that Legolas of the Woodland Realm was more than fair, exceptionally beautiful even among elven kind.

Aragorn knew that Arwen would be the only maiden he ever loved. In this he would be like his elven ancestors of long ago: he would never know love again.

He could not find it within himself to be happy for her. Not when he knew that she did not love her betrothed. Not when he knew that she was being guiled into the marriage. If he was not to have her, then he at least wanted her to wed an Elf who would love her the way he did. He could not stand the knowledge that she would sacrifice herself to an eternity of lonely marriage.

His own destiny now seemed bleak without even the hope of her one day standing beside him. He did not think he would have the heart or the strength to lead his people without her image to cling to.

At last he found the strength to stand. Still holding to the birch, he looked towards the buildings of Imladris. They stood as fair as ever, but he felt as though he was now barred from their peace.

Mind set and heart broken, he strode towards the house of Elrond. He collected what belongings he needed and kissed his mother farewell. In the hallway on his way out he met Elrond. “I am going to ride with the Dúnedain,” he said.

Elrond’s gaze seemed to probe his mind. “Be careful, my son,” he said finally. “Return to us safely.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Aragorn nodded and hastened to the stables. Within minutes he had left Imladris behind him. He followed the River Bruinen westward. He hoped to find the Rangers camped along the banks of the river, for that was how he had left them several weeks ago.

It was a long ride, and though he faced no hinders in his path, he had no peace. He could scarcely think straight. He paid scant attention to his surroundings, and barely noticed when the sun sank. At length flickering lights ahead caught his eye. The Rangers were camped right where he had left them. A small fire burned in the middle of the small clearing. Two Rangers were down by the river, probably washing their clothes. One his arrival, one stood and waved and came to greet him.

“Strider! It is good to see you hale!” Macar called. “Does help follow you?”

“The sons of Elrond left hours ago to summon aid,” was the reply. “There is a band of goblins in the area; too many for us to handle.” Macar looked Aragorn over. “Are you well, my friend? You do not look yourself.”

Aragorn shook his head. “Ask me later. Tell me: how far away are these goblins?”

As Macar spoke, Aragorn found that his thoughts insisted on drifting to Arwen and her Elf-prince. Over and over he saw Legolas Thranduilion arrive in Imladris on his splendid bay, surrounded by dark-haired warriors that made him stick out like the sun among rain clouds.

In his jealousy and grief, Aragorn began to pin to Legolas every undesirable trait he had ever heard associated with Wood-elves. Fool-hardy, reckless, stubborn, given to excessive drink, treasure-loving, dangerous. He forgot that Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor, and even others—Elves he particularly respected—were more than fond of Legolas.

With effort he banished these thoughts from his head and focused on Macar’s words.

¹Glorûniel - Legolas's mother of my own creation; she is not alive in this story.

The three Elves mounted their horses and rode hard to the Last Homely House. Glorfindel came to meet them, golden hair flickering in the torchlight. “Elladan, Elrohir, thank the Valar you have returned. Estel heard of the news of the betrothal and fled.” The twins exchanged a glance.

“We will follow him immediately,” said Elladan. “Glorfindel, gather a patrol and send it after us. We will not conceal our trail. There are goblins in the area.”

“I am going with you,” said Legolas. “It is because of me that he left his home. I do not know him well, but I feel it is my responsibility.” I will not let the hope of mankind fall because of my folly, he swore to himself.

Elladan nodded. “Very well. Let us go.” He directed his horse out the gates.

“Glorfindel, send my warriors with the patrol,” Legolas called over his shoulder as he followed the twins. The twins seemed to have a good idea of where they were going. Legolas simply kept pace with them. There was no time for talking. They rode southwest along the River Bruinen. Legolas was glad that the twins knew where they were going, for there was no moon and the land was dark.

They stopped once to water the horses. “Estel will ride to the Dúnedain, for he is the Chieftain,” Elrohir told Legolas. “Though he would leave Imladris, he would never desert his people.”

Said Elladan: “The Rangers are gathered further down the river. We were tracking a band of goblins with them. Upon seeing how large the goblin party was, Elrohir and I rode to Imladris to gather warriors.”

That was all the time they used. In seconds they were back on their horses and on their way. They rode for hours before Legolas began to hear voices. The night had turned from fine to drizzly. Rain clouds in the sky blocked out the light of the stars, making the woods dark as they rode into the Rangers’ camp. The Elves dismounted. Legolas counted no more than six men in the camp. One of them was Aragorn. Aragorn greeted the elven twins warmly, but the smile on his face disappeared when he saw Legolas.

“Why did you bring him here?” he asked of Elladan. “I do not wish to see him.”

A Ranger ran into the camp. Winded, he spoke in pants: “Strider, the Orcs are headed this way! They are no mere mountain goblins!”

“Not even a half a league. They must smell our camp, for they are coming straight towards us.”

“I hold no great love for Wood-elves right now,” said Aragorn, meeting Legolas’s eyes. “But I am not too proud to turn away help when it is needed. Lord Legolas, how do your warriors fight best? From the trees?”

“Our arrows are most effective from the trees, ay, but our blades are designed for the ground.” Legolas held the Man’s gaze. A! He really does love her. “Put us where you want us.”

There was a nervous tension in the camp. Until either the enemy or reinforcements arrived, there was nothing to be done. Aragorn spoke softly with the twins, too low for even Legolas’s elven ears. Legolas focused his attention on something else. From the direction he and the twins came from, the trees sang of more Elves. The patrol was nearly here. But from his left, coming from the west he heard the stomping of Orcs and the crying of the earth they trod on. He listened for a moment longer. The Orcs were nearer than the Elves.

“The Orcs come,” he said, loud enough for all to hear. “They will reach us before the Elves do.”

“Conceal yourselves in the woods,” Aragorn ordered. “We will surround them. Hopefully that will buy us time until the Elves get here.”

The camp dispersed. Legolas leapt into a tree and pulled his bow from his back. He kept an eye on Aragorn below, determined to keep the Man as safe as possible. Wherever the Man went, Legolas shadowed him. They did not have to wait long before even the Rangers could hear the Orcs.

The sky that had been squeezing drops all night broke open and it began to poor. Legolas had left his cloak behind in Imladris. The cold did not bother him, but the wetness did. Thankfully, the tree he perched in spread its leaves to create somewhat of a tent for him. Standing right beneath Legolas on the ground, Aragorn noticed the lack of rain in that spot. He looked up but did not see the Wood-elf. With a half shrug, Aragorn turned his attention back to the Orcs. The first one became visible in through the trees.

The Orcs swarmed into the camp. Legolas stiffened. The Ranger had spoken truly: these huge creatures were no mountain goblins. They had no chance against this many. Three Elves and seven Men against more than a hundred Orcs? All of the Orcs pushed into the small camp.

“Elendil!” cried Aragorn, lunging forward, sword swinging. He decapitated the Orc nearest him. The others all followed his lead. The Orcs howled and fought back. Legolas fired arrow after arrow into the throats of the monsters, making every one count. This he did until his quiver was empty. Slinging his bow on his back, he drew his knives and jumped into the battle.

This enemy was an easier opponent than Glorfindel. Even so, the stakes were incredibly higher. Legolas focused on all the Orcs around him, never faltering. His blades swept through the foul bodies. He heard a birdcall and his heart nearly burst. The patrol was here!

Elves swarmed the clearing. Legolas took a moment to scan the battlefield for Aragorn. Through the heavy rain, he spotted Aragorn in battle with an Orc while another Orc crept behind him. Legolas did not have any arrows left. He had to rely on his speed to prevent disaster. He ran, leaping over and around bodies. Clutching his long knives, he pushed Aragorn to the ground just as the Orc behind him was about to attack. With a sweep of his arm, he slit the one Orc’s throat. Spinning, he stabbed the other Orc in the shoulder.

The Orc roared and lashed out with its scimitar. Legolas could not dance out of the way. The blade bit deep into his hip. He stumbled back, crying out from the pain. As the Orc lunged again, Legolas ducked down. He dropped his knives and grabbed a forsaken scimitar from the ground. He swung it and severed the Orc’s head from its body.

Again he looked around for Aragorn. The Man had scrambled to his feet after Legolas’s shove, and was now pursuing a group of Orcs into the woods. Cursing, Legolas pushed down the pain in his hip and followed. He caught pace with Aragorn, who shot him an unreadable look. The chased the Orcs together through the woods.

At last the chase ended, for the Orcs found themselves between a hill of rock and their pursuers. There were four Orcs. Easy odds, Legolas figured. The rain fell harder, blurring vision.

They attacked, Aragorn wielding his sword and Legolas his stolen scimitar. Aragorn drove his blade into one’s gut. Ripping it free, he spun and caught his next Orc’s attack with his blade. The Orc bellowed and Aragorn screamed as they tested each other’s strength. Aragorn prevailed for he made his blade lax, as though he had weakened. When the Orc lunged towards him, Aragorn narrowly twisted out of the weapon’s way and in the same motion thrust his sword straight through the Orc.

He looked for his companion. Legolas’s two Orcs were strewn on the ground, but to Aragorn’s dismay, so was Legolas. He moved quickly to the Elf’s side. Legolas groaned, showing Aragorn that he was both alive and conscious.

“Where are you injured?” Aragorn asked, quickly surveying the Wood-elf. He could hear more Orcs in the distance, but it sounded like they were headed his way.

“My hip,” groaned Legolas, squeezing his eyes shut. “The cursed Orc pulled me down. I fell on the rocks.”

Aragorn touched Legolas’s hip. He could not see anything because of the blinding rain, but his hand came away wet with something other than rain. “There are more Orcs coming, and you are bleeding heavily,” he said. “There is a cave maybe ten feet away. I will help you there.”

He pulled Legolas into an upright position. Slinging the Wood-elf’s arm around his own shoulders, he pulled Legolas up. Legolas swayed and would have fallen but for Aragorn’s support. It became immediately obvious that Legolas could not walk. His injured leg dragged behind him. Aragorn feared he would lose too much blood like this. Ignoring Legolas’s moan of protest, the Man grunted and pulled the Elf into his arms.

The rain did its best to blind Aragorn so that he would trip. He had to go slow to keep his footing sure. He had just ducked into the cave when Orcs burst through the trees.

The inside of the cave was dank and gloomy. Aragorn could barely see. He went as far back in it as he could without losing all sight. He settled Legolas on the ground. Pulling off his outer tunic, he wadded it up and pressed it against the bloody wound. Legolas groaned at the pressure.

“I cannot see the wound,” Aragorn whispered, afraid of the Orcs outside hearing. “Do you feel poison?”

“Stay,” said Aragorn. He stood and snuck to the entrance of the cave. The Orcs were plundering the corpses of their former comrades, taking whatever thing struck their fancy.

“Stinkin’ Elf blood!” one howled. “Enough here for a whole Elf!” The Orcs exalted over the blood, but upon finding no Elf and no tracks soon grew bored and left. Free now to make noise, Aragorn felt around the cave for a stack of wood he knew to be within. He found it after stubbing his toe walking into it. An empty pot coated with dust and dirt sat next to the wood. Aragorn snatched up the pot and washed it out in the rain. Once clean he let it fill with the rainwater.

He built a fire near where Legolas lay. The flames flickered light across the cave walls. Aragorn saw that Legolas’s skin was pasty. Now that he had light enough to see, he set to examining the jagged wound. Legolas groaned again upon his touch.

“Why did you follow me?” Aragorn asked as he worked. Would I have followed you?

“You were wounded before I left the camp, were you not?” The Wood-elf gave a slight nod. “Thank you.”

The rain continued to pour, making a waterfall over the entrance of the cave. Aragorn did not want to move Legolas through the rain, for he did not want to chance stumbling while carrying the wounded Elf. He chanced to look at Legolas’s face and found a pair of bluish-gray eyes trained on his own face. Aragorn felt a spurt of anger; this Elf had taken away all of his dreams. Choking it back, he tore a strip from the bottom of his cloak and pressed it against the bloody and torn flesh. He needed herbs to treat the poison.

He draped his cloak over Legolas and hurried outside the cave. The rain drenched him the moment he stepped outside. Squinting against the downpour, he moved to the wood line. Lightning flashes showed him the way. He made a quick search and found the plant he was looking for. He pawed through the dirt beneath the blue-green leaves of the plant and dug up the roots. He blinked water out of his eyes as he cut a chunk of the knobby rootstock off with his knife.

Lightning flashed again and again while he ran back to the cave. Thunder echoed against the rocky wall. Aragorn noted that Legolas’s eyes were open and watching him as he took the full pot of water and dropped the rootstock in it. Aragorn set the pot in the midst of the small fire.

“How do you feel?” he asked, checking the makeshift bandage. The bleeding had slowed down a bit.

Legolas frowned at the question. His eyes wandered the cave. He seemed about to answer but grimaced instead. “Your pot smells vile.”

“It will stop the bleeding and halt the poison,” Aragorn replied. “Does the smell matter?”

After several minutes, Aragorn wrapped a cloth around the handle of the pot and removed it from the flames. He dipped the cloth into the hot liquid and placed it over the wound. Leaving it there, he prepared a poultice from the rootstock in the pot. He lifted the cloth and spread the mashed herb against the injury. Tearing off another strip of his cloak, he wrapped it tightly around the wound.

Legolas’s eyes drifted shut. Two Wood-elves burst into the cave, followed by Elladan and Elrohir. “Elbereth help us!” cried one of the Wood-elves. “Does he live?”

The Wood-elf that had spoken dropped next to Legolas. Pulling off his own cloak, he wrapped the prince in it. He slid his arms beneath Legolas’s knees and back and lifted him up. “Let us go then, and quickly.” They made a quick procession back to the ruined camp. Dead Orcs filled the camp. Thankfully, no Rangers or Elves had been killed, although some suffered wounds. It was decided that the entire group would travel to Imladris, for nearly all of the Rangers had a wound of some kind.

The Wood-elf that had taken charge of Legolas turned out to be Glorfindel’s old friend, Aerhos. He had Legolas on his horse in front of him the minute everyone was ready to leave. The Wood-elves could not be bothered to follow the pace the Rangers rode at and so pushed ahead.

The Wood-elf’s Wisdom

The rain had stopped and the sun was rising when Aragorn reached the House of Elrond, accompanied by the Rangers and the Elves of Imladris. Aragorn spotted Arwen standing in the balcony of one of the healing rooms. Legolas’s room, Aragorn guessed. She saw him watching her and smiled down at him. His heart lightened for a moment.

Erestor came outside and began directing the Men where to go. Elladan and Elrohir came along either side of Aragorn and carried him away to Elladan’s chambers. There they gave him a faithful account of the history of Legolas and Arwen. When they had finished, Aragorn did not quite know what to think. He knew he was relieved to know that Legolas and Arwen would not bond. Beyond that, he was far too exhausted to feel much of anything.

In his own chambers, he bathed and dressed himself in fresh clothes. His feet then traced the path towards the healing rooms. The door to the room Legolas lay in was open. He saw Arwen standing near the balcony, looking out over Imladris. In the bed to her left, Legolas lay with shut eyes. His skin was as pale, save for two pink spots high on his cheeks.

Arwen turned when he entered. “Mae govannen,” she said with a bright smile. “I have been expecting you since I saw you ride in with my brothers.”

Was that smile for him, he wondered, or if she was looking forward to seeing her brothers. He willed those thoughts away. “How is Legolas?”

“He should be waking soon. My adar was able to identify the poison. He said that Legolas will be well as soon as the fever passes.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Aragorn replied. “He was wounded saving my life.”

She smiled. “Legolas would say that it is a part of being a warrior.” She laughed that beautiful, clear laugh. “I know, for this is not the first time he has found himself in this bed.” She threw a fond look at the unconscious Elf. “He has been known to disregard his own safety.”

The Elf in question moaned and tossed his head. “Legolas,” Arwen called softly, kneeling beside his bed. She ran cool fingers over his feverish brow. “You are safe in Imladris.” His eyes lazily drifted open.

“Undómiel,” he murmured.

She hushed him with a finger to his lips. “Save your strength. My adar wanted to know when you awakened. I will go fetch him.”

It was not until she had left that Legolas noticed Aragorn’s presence. “Estel,” he said softly. “You are well?”

Aragorn nodded. “Thanks to you. “I owe you my life.”

“Warriors do not keep debts,” Legolas whispered. “I did what was needed.” He licked his lips and shifted. “Did the twins tell you?”

“About you and Arwen? Ay, just minutes ago.”

“Good.” He licked his lips again, then his eyes slipped shut. Elrond entered at that moment, Arwen behind him.

“Legolas,” Elrond called, crossing quickly to the bed. “Stay awake for me, my child.” He coaxed Legolas into opening his eyes long enough for a quick examination. At the end Legolas was rewarded with a drink of water.

When Legolas once more slept, Elrond turned to his daughter. Touching her cheek fondly, he said, “I suppose you will want me to announce that you and Legolas are no longer betrothed.” She nodded. He sighed, but her smile made his lips turn up. “I am thankful that I did not send the news yet to Thranduil. He would have my head.”

“Thank you, Ada,” she said, kissing his cheek.

Aragorn crept out of the room and returned to his chambers. Exhausted physically and emotionally, he threw himself into his bed and slept the rest of the day. When he awoke much refreshed, it was time for evening meal. Glorfindel, Erestor, and the twins were seated in the dining hall.

“It is a very fortunate thing that you had your duel yesterday, Glorfindel,” Elrohir said as Aragorn entered. “For it would be truly embarrassing were you to lose to him now when he is injured.”

“Ah, Estel!” Elladan greeted before Glorfindel could reply to Elrohir. “I thought you would never wake up.” Then to Glorfindel: “Did you break his nose again. It looked a bit out of shape.”

“You ask of his nose, but not of this storm cloud around my eye?” demanded Glorfindel, gesturing at his face. “But, yes, his nose got in the way of my fist.”

The meal was merry.

***

After his meal, Aragorn himself drawn to Legolas’s room again. Walking down the hall, he could hear voices arguing. The voices grew louder as he neared Legolas’s room.

“Out!” Legolas’s voice roared over all the others. “All of you!”

Half a dozen voices chimed in at once in protest. “Legolas Thranduilion!” cried the loudest. “You are being unreasonable!”

Louder this time, “Leave me be! By the Valar, you are making my head pound.”

Aragorn hurried to the room when he heard a crash.

“You spider! Legolas! You moth!” voices cried. “Just look what you have done!”

Another crash.

Aragorn entered to find Legolas sprawled on the floor, clutching his hip and groaning in pain. Wood-elves crowded around him, several covered in one of Elrond’s herbal teas. The wall behind the Wood-elves also dripped with the liquid. One of the tea-elves reached for Legolas, but the prince jerked away.

“I said leave me be!” he cried, face taught with pain. “I beg of you, let me alone.”

Aragorn cleared his throat. Seven pairs of eyes tore through him. “Lord Elrond wishes me to tell you all that Prince Legolas must be left in peace tonight,” he fibbed. “You may see him in the morning.”

“But—“ began a tea-elf.

“Aerhos, come,” said a Wood-elf, taking the protestor by the arm. “It is high time you took rest.” The rest of the Wood-elves followed these two from the room.

Aragorn crouched near Legolas. “Is the floor comfortable?” he asked wryly.

Legolas scowled at him. Aragorn felt the Elf’s forehead. It was still warmer than it should have been. “Will you accept my help, or should I fetch an Elf?”

“I am not that proud,” Legolas snapped. “Your arm is as good as any other. Better, yet, for you shall not remember it in a hundred years.” Aragorn grinned and lifted the Elf easily in his young, strong arms. “Take me to the balcony,” Legolas ordered before Aragorn could set him on the bed. “I want to see the sun set.” Aragorn set Legolas on the cushioned settee. Legolas settled into it with a groan, his face nearly as white as the spotless tunic he wore. Aragorn’s eye strayed to the bulge bandages made beneath the Wood-elf’s loose trousers.

“You did not tear your wound falling out of bed?” he asked.

“I did not fall out of bed,” Legolas corrected. All venom had left his voice; only humor now remained. “I merely ran out of space while evading the Mumakil Elrond set as my nurses.” He shook his head, closing his eyes. “Nay, my rescuer, the wound remains tightly sewn.” He smiled into the soft evening breeze that played with his golden hair. “Anor shall descend soon.”

Aragorn fetched a blanket from the room, which he draped over Legolas’s lower body. Legolas looked at him in surprise. “You are still fevered,” the Man simply said. “May I watch the sunset with you?”

“I would be honored,” replied Legolas. He searched Aragorn’s face for a moment. “Elladan and Elrohir told you everything?” Aragorn nodded. “I wish you luck, then. Mayhap you shall obtain that which your heart desires.”

“You puzzle me, Legolas Thranduilion,” said Aragorn. “I have heard many things of the Elves of the Wood, most of all that they look down upon mortals. Yet here you are, a Wood-elf prince sitting with me as would a friend and giving hope to my heart concerning the Elf whom I love.”

Legolas smiled vaguely. “And would you travel to my home, you would hear many things of the Elves of Imladris that would shock your ears. Thranduil’s folk are not so wild as the Noldor say. Less wise, perhaps, for we have not the time or peace for long contemplation and reverie. We spend our days fighting the Enemy, and what moments we have to spare we give to celebrating the gifts the One has given us.”

They sat in silence then, for the sun began its decline. Legolas whispered words under his breath that Aragorn could not quite make out. The words turned into a song. Aragorn heard no words in the song, but the melody told a story nonetheless. The sky splayed the many colors of dusk until it was a deep, dark blue. Lamps were lit all throughout Imladris as night came. Legolas sighed deeply as his song ended.

“That was beautiful, was it not, Estel? I rarely have chance to watch two such sunsets as I have these past two nights. Life outside of Imladris is less than serene. Yet who is to say that serene is better?” He threw the blanket off of himself. “I am afraid I must trouble you again for assistance, my friend.”

Aragorn helped Legolas to the bed, though he did not carry him this time, only let the Wood-elf lean heavily on him. Once settled in bed, Legolas asked Aragorn: “Elrond has trained you in healing? Ah, good. I wonder if you would brew me a cup of climbing-vine tea.”

As the room was used to hold injured people, the ingredients for the tea Legolas requested were in the room. Aragorn used water from a pitcher that stood on a table. A kettle stood near the fireplace. Legolas watched Aragorn move.

“Do not think badly of Elrond, Estel,” Legolas said softly as Aragorn watched over the brewing tea. “He loves you. Do not doubt that.”

“He knows that I love her,” said Aragorn. “Without speaking of it to me, he sought to take away any hope I might have held of her.”

To this Legolas replied, “My adar has two sons. He loves us dearly. Even so, my sister was the delight of his eyes and the joy of his heart. Losing her nearly killed him. Adars and their daughters have a special bond.”

Aragorn brought the cup of tea to the bed. “Again you comfort me with your words.”

“As I said,” Legolas said around a sip of his tea, “we Wood-elves are not so wild as the tales say.”

Aragorn laughed. “I would dare to say that you are even wise, a statement for which my elven family would likely disown me.”

“Bravely spoken, my friend.” They both laughed.

Legolas finished his tea and gave the empty cup to Aragorn.

“Legolas, how did your duel with Glorfindel begin?” Aragorn asked, helping the Wood-elf to lie down (for he had been sitting against the headboard while drinking the tea).

“He insulted me upon our first meeting,” Legolas replied. He smiled sleepily at the memory. “I challenged him to a duel. It has grown and twisted into becoming an ugly monster that will not go away. And though I lost the first three hundred or so times, he has not won these past seventy-odd meetings.”

“He insulted you?”

“Ay. He called me leaflet. It was not to be born.”

***

The next day Elrond called Aragorn into his chambers. They spoke for many hours and both came out with heavy hearts. Aragorn spent the remainder of the day in the gardens. Life outside of Imladris is less than serene. Yet who is to say that serene is better? he thought to himself, remembering Legolas’s words. This is my destiny, my inheritance. I shall pass the test before me. I shall prove myself worthy of Arwen Undómiel. He encouraged himself with these thoughts.

It so happened that he found himself standing beneath Legolas’s balcony just as the sun began to set. Once more raised voices drifted from the room. He smiled inwardly as Legolas shouted, “Get out, you Mumakil!” Voices raised in protest.

“Legolas Thranduilion, get back in that bed!”

“Valar, stay still!”

“Mithien, block the door!”

“Stop shoving me, you moth!”

“I order you all to leave,” Legolas shouted again. “So help me, I will demote you all and have you working with the Elflings if you do not go!”

Less wise, more dangerous, Aragorn laughed to himself, remembering the description of Wood-elves he had been brought up upon. He went inside with the intention of rescuing Legolas again. He met the twins on the stairs. They were laughing at the shouting that could be clearly heard. The three ended up dragging more tea-drenched Elves from the room. Elladan and Elrohir hustled the Wood-elves down the hall.

With the door safely shut, Aragorn looked for Legolas. The Wood-elf prince stood in the middle of the room, leaning heavily on a table as he panted to catch his breath.

“I believe that Elrond meant for you to drink the tea, not throw it on your warriors,” Aragorn said dryly.

Legolas grunted. “If he did not want me to throw the tea, he would not have given it to me. It is my only weapon, and he well knows it.” He limped heavily out to the balcony and sank into the settee. “Another beautiful sunset, Estel.” Aragorn followed him to the balcony.

“I am leaving Imladris tomorrow, Legolas,” he said. “In my jealousy I did not expect to find a friend in you, but you have left me no choice in the matter. I wanted to say thank you and farewell before I left.”

Legolas stared deep into Aragorn’s eyes. “It will be good for you,” he said at last. “You are young, even for a Man, yet when I look into your eyes I see great things that you will accomplish. Know this: should you seek aid from the Wood-elves, you shall find it, as much as we can give. You have my favor, therefore you have my lord’s. Still, take care to travel only on the Old Forest Road, for otherwise you shall become lost and may be looked upon as an enemy, for my people are suspicious, and rightly so.”

The Wood-elf laughed. “I see in your eyes the same determination that burns in my heart. I know that to rid my woods of the Enemy, I must fight the Enemy. I fight it every day until sometimes I forget what I am fighting for. Then I see the things I love the best: my adar; my brother and his family; even Anor’s setting. Therefore, I have hope that someday the woods will be cleansed and that my brother’s children, indeed, every child, will dwell in safety. I have hope that the lines around my adar’s face will smooth away It gives me strength to go out one more day. I have hope, and even when my strength fails, I know I will win this fight. Never lose your hope, son of Arathorn, for then you will lose everything.”

“Now,” said Legolas, turning his attention to the sky, “pretend you are a Wood-elf and enjoy the sunset with me.” He began to sing, but this song was not the mournful tune of the previous evening. It had words and was of the beauty of the gold sunset.

The next day Aragorn bid farewell to all those within Elrond’s house whom he loved. Then he departed and went into the wild. As for more of the tale of Aragorn and Arwen, is it not told in the Annals of the Kings and Rulers?

***

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Therefore, I Have Hope by Emily