Author's Note: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. Obviously.
The Choosing
Far and wide across the land of Gondor could the tolling of the bells be heard. Not since the royal wedding of Lord Aragorn and Lady Arwen had the bells been made to chime so. Ding-dong! Ding-dong! They merrily announced throughout the realm that the Choosing had begun. By the end of the fortnight, mighty Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, son of King Thranduil, would have chosen his bride.
Joyous was all that land at this special occasion, in which another of the nine walkers would find marital bliss! Maiden eleths from every corner of Middle Earth had come to Gondor with the hope of becoming the blessed wife of the brave and noble hero of the War of the Ring.
One such she-elf held more hope than all others. Narya was her name, only daughter of Cirdan the Shipwright, Lord of the Falas, and in her eyes was the light of a thousand suns. Only once had she gazed upon the Prince of Mirkwood, and his beauty had moved her soul. Gladly would she spend her eternity by his side.
Due to her lineage and rank, Narya was favored among her companions by being lodged in the royal household. But the ringing of the bells had unsettled her in the guest tower, so she sought the King and Lady Arwen to ease her gentle spirit. She heard their voices on the balcony and approached, but stopped short. They were laughing in the presence of a third.
"How I loathe this day, Aragorn," he said bitterly. "The day my freedom is taken from me and my wings are cut before I chanced to see the world."
The royal couple laughed and Aragorn encouraged, "Come, my friend! You have a bleak view of marriage. I have been nothing but happy since the day I wed." And he lovingly took Arwen's hand in his.
"Our race would long have extinguished if all our males thought as you, dear Legolas," teased Arwen.
"I have no objection to the pleasures with which our race is propagated, Lady Arwen," answered the Prince sultrily. "But to the binding of a reluctant groom by hand and foot."
Aragorn's mirth continued, "Well, at least your eyes are not bound! Look upon your admirers and choose the lady that pleases you."
"I cannot be pleased with any of them, much less choose one. Aragorn, tell me this: What self-respecting she-elf would willingly throw herself into this competition. I should doubt if even one in that lot has an iota of intelligence."
"My friend," responded Aragorn, "I long for the day in the near future when I shall hear you say how wrong you were! But, come! The time has drawn near. Count yourself fortunate to have friends to aid you in this process."
"Yes," sighed Legolas. "I cannot do this without you, or Arwen, or the Dwarf. That is why I asked you to host the Choosing. Thank you, my friends. And now to the slaughter."
The King and Queen chuckled as they led their friend to the courtyard. Unaware were they of the trembling eleth that had heard the entire exchange. She flew to her quarters and, behind closed doors, she wiped away the stray tear that in her white hot anger had escaped from her eyes.
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