Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Tolkien's, not mine.
Author's Note: Written for Rhysenn's Alliance of Elves and Men challenge.
The Choice of King Elessar
Part One: Aragorn
It is only now that it is all over that I realise all my troubles were not put to flight with the destruction of the Ring and the defeat of Sauron. I have never tasted a victory so bitter, so hollow. For it is only now that I am King that my heart is become the battleground, and I must make the cruellest choice of all: Arwen, my Queen, or Legolas, my brother in arms. How can I choose between the two halves of my heart?
Were I not King, were I a simple Ranger still, the choice would be no less cruel, but at least it would be fair. But King I am, of the ancient line of Kings, and I must consider my duty more than my heart.
Duty binds me to Arwen. I must secure the fragile peace we have won, I must beget heirs so that the lands of Middle-Earth will never again be leaderless. I must be the strong and noble King with his beautiful, devoted Queen by his side, and half of my heart rejoices that I have the love of such a woman as she. But the other half weeps for the loss of its own desire, before I have even made my decision.
If I choose Arwen, Legolas will hate me for the rest of his days. He will not wish to; he will hide it and deny it, but he will never be able to stop it. The hatred and bitterness will eat away at him whether he wills it or no. Indeed, I can already see it beginning. I can see the betrayal shadowing his face, drowning his eyes; it will not be long before the coldness fills him completely. He knows my duty as well as I, but even he cannot help the feelings in his heart. I have faced down countless nightmares made real, but never would I be able to meet Legolas' eyes and tell him I have chosen Arwen over him.
I love them both equally. Arwen has been my light, Legolas my strength, through the dark times that shadowed our world. Each in their own way they have guided me to the destiny I never wanted, giving unfailingly of their love as I struggled to come to terms with the burden that was mine alone. Arwen has been my lodestar since I was twenty years old and newly come into the knowledge of my inheritance. Her endless patience, her timeless, selfless love, have guided me through all my trials, always reminding me that there is still hope as long as the Evenstar smiles down upon me. And Legolas has been my friend, my companion, my brother in arms, for almost as long. It was only after the Fellowship set out from Rivendell that I came to realise that our long friendship was turning into something far more, something all the more beautiful because it was forbidden to us. Grief for the loss of Gandalf first drove us to each other's arms, in the tranquillity of Lothlorien, and from then on Legolas became my fire, my passion, my driving force. His presence near me, his eyes upon me, became enough to ensure that I kept going, never faltering, never failing. He was the only one to see the despair that I often could not fight off, and he drove it away with his touch, his kiss, and the white-hot flame of his love for me.
How can I choose between them, when without either of them I should surely have failed?
If I choose Legolas, Arwen will leave with her people. She does not have to make her decision until her father comes to leave Middle-Earth. She will return to Rivendell and await the final days of her people, and then she will sail to the Undying Lands and her broken heart will heal. Legolas does not have Arwen's choice. He is no child of Elrond; he cannot choose a mortal life, and all too soon he would lose me to age and death. Better to end it now than to prolong his suffering and watch his heart begin to splinter as I draw my final breaths.
But can I condemn my own heart to that long, slow splintering? Whichever I choose, half of my heart will die on that day, and the remaining half will slowly fall to bitterness and resentment. Better to choose neither - or both. And yet what rational thought is still left to me tells me that will be worse. To make both of them believe that I do not love them enough, or to force them to share my love; both would be mortal insults to those I hold dearer than my own soul. And I am so tired. I have a kingdom to rebuild, people to guide; there would not be enough of me left to give to them. They each deserve all of me, and I cannot give it to them both.
My people, too, deserve more. They deserve a King they can look up to, a figurehead upon which to focus their respect and their love, someone who can lead them out of the dark times and into the light of the new Age. A King who keeps a Queen and a lover, no matter how secret, will inspire no respect. Secrets have a way of getting out. And how could I ever hurt Arwen, expose her to ridicule, by keeping a lover? How could I ever belittle the love I have for Legolas by keeping it a secret, something to be ashamed of?
I feel as though I stand upon the peak of a mountain. A step in any direction will plunge my heart into certain death, but I cannot stand here for ever. My choice must be made, but Valar help me, I cannot see which way to turn.