The King of Gondor paced uneasily after waiting to hear word of his wife's safe arrival to Lothlorien. As to why she was summoned suddenly became unclear, but it most likely had to do with an affair of her grandmother. Aragorn soon began to sift through the papers in his wife's large, chestnut desk, not expecting to find anything much or at all. Yet, what he did find intrigued him, in a sense.

By the dim candlelight of the room now draped in darkness, he looked, and searched, for anything of importance. Perhaps he would find something of old to help him relax, or something to remind him of his beloved wife. Finally, he produced from the last drawer a medium-sized box made of rowan wood with gilts set about the corners. The box was nowhere near the beauty of some of the things Arwen had owned.

Out of curiosity, Aragorn opened the box, and peered in it. He saw loads of papers, pens, envelopes, and folded pieces of paper, yet nothing that seemed important. To his first glance, it was merely a stationary set and nothing more. Nevertheless, as luck would have it, Aragorn's clumsy hands dropped the box, causing it to topple to the floor, contents spilling out. He managed to catch the box before it hit the tiled floor, and sighed in relief.

Stooping down to pick up the scattered papers, he noticed a large sheet of brown paper folded over something square-shaped, tied with twine. "It looks like a package a mere child would make," muttered the man, as he picked it up, inspecting it. Aragorn walked over to his wife's bedside and sat on it, while turning the bundle repeatedly. Curiosity killed the cat, and soon enough, Aragorn removed the twine with a knife, for it was tied too tightly for him to remove, and spread out the contents.

In the package were numerous dated parchments and letters, all from the same person, for the handwriting was the same. Figuring it was from Elrond, Aragorn smirked and thought aloud: "Well, let's have a see, shall we? Maybe her father will congratulate us on our city…" All the letters were together by date. The first one, marked as followed: '39 Tuilë', or May 6th.

(Flashback)

"This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and to him you owe your allegiance," stated the clear, firm voice of the elf of Mirkwood. Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood—Thranduil's Realm, was he.

`Ham-ndu, Legolas, ` commanded the ranger as he gestured the righteous elf to sit by use of his hand. Aragorn sighed, and went back to listening to Lord Elrond discussing the matter at hand.

"Aragorn, hm? Gondor has no King. Gondor needs no King," gruffly retorted Boromir of Gondor. He was not ready to let his pride for the Steward on Gondor go unseen. Never would he accept this man, Aragorn, as the un-crowned king of Gondor, and this he meant to show. Boromir and Legolas glared at each other for a few minutes in tension and hate, until the booming voice of Elrond caught their attention…

{Later that night, after the council.}

(Legolas' POV)

I had always heard stories of Aragorn from Elrond when I came to this city visiting Elrohir and Elladan, yet never in my wildest dreams could I have ever imagined him being so… Well, quite regal. The man is mesmerizing… He has a strong voice, unwavering and sturdy. His face is hard-set and determined; his eyes are deep and offset the color of his mahogany hair. Clearly, he has 'royalty' written all over him in the purest of gold. I am amazed he spoke to me, seeing how I am not something of much importance, unlike Master Elrond. 

Now, I am on a mission, along with nine other creatures, to destroy the One… Moreover, Aragorn is our leader. The whole fact of him going made me speak up before even thinking rationally. Father told me that the Heirs of Isildur are known for their cunning. Perhaps Aragorn has ensnared me in some utterly hopeless spell. Nay, even if he did, I would not care. The man is a legend due to his bloodline, and I think I may like being sent off with him. Perhaps I could prove father wrong and Master Elrond right. Yes, that would do… It would ease my heart and its sinister convictions, with all due thanks to Thranduil…

{Present day, after the destruction of the One.}

To this day, I cannot believe I even wrote that as I now look back and upon my journal entries during the quest. It is preposterous to even imagine me concocting ideas such as those about someone I had only heard of, and never met.

How foolish I was to ever think that Aragorn, son of Arathorn, was a great man of title and lineage. How foolish I was to ever look upon him and sigh in longing, and to take stands for him when he could not. The man has betrayed me in many ways, and of those acts, I would prefer not to speak. Yet, if it would ease your heart, my friend, I would tell you of them. I would tell you of how he left me that day, and why I am driven to madness and beyond, as I hold dear now. For, my friend, to see you weep for my own impetuous tendencies towards the mention of this man, is truly something I would like to behold no longer.

To Be Continued.

Well, should I continue this? Does it seem interesting at all? Give me your opinions… Thanks!

UPDATE 8/9/02: The months have been updated into real elven dates, thanks to The Encyclopedia of Arda. The EoA states this about elven time:

The Reckoning of Rivendell or Imladris is the only recorded Elvish calendar. It contained six 'months' (more akin to seasons), rather than twelve, and its arrangement reflects the Elvish preference for counting in sixes and twelves. Because of their long lifespan, the Elves tended to divide time into Yéni of 144 years each, but they also had a period equivalent to a year, called a Loa or Coranar.

Rather than adding one day every four years, as with the modern leap year, the Elves instead added three days every twelve years. In these years, the Enderi ('middle-days') of each year were doubled from the usual three to six. For precision, the last year of every third yén was shortened by three days, rather than lengthened (the last year of a yén was always a 'leap' year). This was a rare occurrence, happening only once every 432 years.

…Be that it may, I have still kept my 'Blue Moon' years and so on and so forth, for in the old calendars of past civilizations, the "color" and moon dignified the position in the sky, and the time of year… Tricky no? For once, I've done my homework! (research, really.) Anyways… Enjoy, review, rejoice at the reckoning of Imladris!