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

Fleeing

     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.”

     They fled the study.

***

     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.

     “Mae govannen,” he called back. 

     “Can I guess what brings you to Imladris?” Elrohir laughed.

     “Who won the duel this year, Legolas?” Elladan asked.

     “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 closed his eyes.  “Arwen and I are betrothed.”

     “What!”

     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.

     “Your adar is going to announce it.  We decided only hours ago.”

     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.

     He was full grown now.  His place was with the Dúnedain.

     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?”

     “What do you mean?”

     “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.