Author's Notes: Well…this is my very first fanfic ever. I want to warn any possible readers right from the start that, despite my ardent love for writing, I am a very very very sporadic producer. Someday when I am grown up, graduated, and all that, I'll hopefully have my own special time to do what I love most. But until then…I apologize.

I started this about two years ago, and never really got through Chapter 3. I struggle a lot with writer's block, so any help/criticism/pointers/encouragement—pretty much anything but flaming—is welcome and appreciated.

Well, with that, I hope this will end well. Wish me luck!

Rebekah

Disclaimer: More than ever I wish I'd been given the skill to write a masterpiece all my own, but since that doesn't seem likely, I pretend for my own dreams and enjoyment. The characters who inhabit both my waking and sleeping dreams are (mostly) not my own; anyone recognizable comes from J.R.R. Tolkien, one of my greatest heroes and inspirations. I don't intend to gain anything from this story but some sort of writing experience and a journey through someone else's world.

Nyérë ar Qualmë

Chapter 1

Sunlight glinted off cold steel as drawn blades met in a deadly, lightning-fast duel. The two warriors appeared unevenly matched, but the more slight figure fought with the inhuman grace and skill of an elf.

Legolas brought his two matched knives together in an X, catching his opponent's larger, heavier sword, allowing him to rapidly withdraw the lower blade and make a lethal stab towards the heart. Both froze for a moment, then Faramir backed away, grinning.

"Beat me again!" he exclaimed. "And in front of my wife, too." He saluted up towards a balcony above the courtyard, where Éowyn, Lady of Ithilien, stood watching.

Since the War of the Ring and the fall of Sauron, Ithilien had become a place of great beauty almost rivaling the elven forests. However, though Faramir had originally planned to restore Minas Ithil, the city remained deserted, a place still feared and avoided.

Currently, the Lord of Ithilien was staying in Minas Tirith, now once again known as Minas Anor, while planning the construction of a new city in Ithilien. He and Legolas had become fast friends in the two years since Aragorn's crowning as King Elessar.

Faramir tugged at the collar of his green tunic. "I think I'll go for a swim," he decided. "Care to come?"

Legolas shook his head, grinning. "I promised Aragorn I'd pay him a visit—that's my reason for coming in the first place. His counselors and advisors have bored him out of his mind."

His friend winced in sympathy. Though they were all glad for the long-needed peace, most had lived their entire lives in constant danger. The serene quietness of the past years had made them restless.

Faramir waved and headed off towards the stables. His elven friend watched for a moment as the young lord, still in Ranger garb, disappeared from sight. Doubtless the young human would find a band of hot, sweaty soldiers and form a water battle at the ruins of Osgiliath, where no one would see them play at war like children.

Aragorn punched his desk, toppling a bottle of ink that splattered all over. "If I get one more treaty or request to sign," he growled at the empty room, "I'll—" He struck the desk again, right in a black puddle.

"Estel?"

Arwen, queen of Gondor and Aragorn's beloved wife, stood in the doorway. Her simple white dress, which would have looked plain on any other woman, only served to emphasize her beauty. Though her face was impassive, her lovely brown eyes twinkled in amusement.

Glancing at his ink-splattered desk, the king muttered a few unintelligible excuses, then threw up his ink stained hands in surrender. Arwen smiled and walked quickly to his side. Under her patient, gentle hands, the study soon regained order.

Aragorn watched, amazed. "I don't see how you can stand all this." He gestured wildly at the study. "I enjoy reading books, and I am not opposed to writing, but this…" He looked down at the mound of papers on his desk.

A sad smile touched his wife's lips. "It grieves me, Estel, that you suffer so…you were always a warrior, ready for battle, your hands…" She took one of Aragorn's blackened hands in her own pale, slender ones. "Your hands were always stained with the blood of war. Are you not glad for peace?"

Aragorn gazed lovingly at his wife. "I am glad to be able to be with you in peace. But I fear that my heart will always long for the wild—for adventure…" He reached up and caressed her face with the cleaner of his hands. "But as long as you are with me, I think I will be able to manage."

Pulling Arwen into his arms, he kissed her gently and lovingly. She started for a moment, then wrapped her arms around his head and returned the kiss. Gazing at each other in adoration, they leaned towards each other again.

"Perhaps this is a bad time."

For the second time that day, Aragorn started and looked up at the door. Legolas peered through the half-open door, laughter written all over his face. "I think the king is shirking his duties."

The two hastily released each other as Arwen simultaneously got to her feet. "Don't tell this to anyone," Aragorn warned with mock sternness. "Heads could roll. Beautiful blond ones."

Legolas grinned and strode in with a bow to the queen. "Greetings, Lady. It is an honor to see you again." Arwen nodded graciously, trying hard to pick up the pieces of her usual formality. The prince of Mirkwood then turned to his closest friend in all Middle Earth.

"So, what is this mess? Did Gollum come and try to taste your ink? Or is this orc-blood?" A hint of mischief glittered in his sapphire-blue eyes.

Aragorn stood and embraced the elf. "It's good to see you again, mellon nin." His wife offered to leave them to themselves. "You've arrived at the right time, Greenleaf," she remarked. "My lord's advisors have decided they have a great need to increase their numbers. They are choosing three new counselors as we speak."

The king gazed heavenward. "And then only Ilúvatar will be able to give me some time of my own, with no one to tell me how many fish have been caught in the last month, or how fare the negotiations with the Variags of Khand." Sighing, he waved his friend into a chair. "What news from your father? How fare your people?"

Legolas sighed. "More and more of my kin are taking their leave and embarking on their journey to the Grey Havens. Though they no longer have Sauron to fear, they say our time here is ending, and that we must make way for the age of Men." Looking up, he gave a week smile. "But why do I burden you with such tidings? Shall we go and spar? Or would you rather challenge my skill with the bow?"

"Sparring, I think," Aragorn replied quickly. "Somehow I don't relish the idea of humiliating myself today."

The elf grinned. "You're out of luck. I defeated Faramir three times not one hour ago."

Author's Notes: Well, you survived it. Thank you so much if you read all the way through this mess, and please review!