Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine, and everything else is mine! Nah, just joking. Everything is Tolkien's!
A/N: I can't believe I have done this…. I can't believe I've written a Legomance. But there you are, I suppose I just had to get it out of my system, and I have just been ogling pictures of Orlando Bloom for the past hour, so maybe that's why. Oh and you have to take into account artistic license here: we are just assuming that Thranduil and his family have never met Arwen before, ok? So please read and review, or even flame if you must, because frankly I think it's pretty crappy as well!
Muttering lightly under her breath, Alarien paced quickly round her chamber. Sunlight streamed through the open window, filling the small room with pleasant warmth and golden light. The chamber was shaped like a half moon, with the curved side facing out into the beautiful forest. Melodious singing reached her ears, but it did nothing to disperse her distracted mood. Marching over to the window, she flung the shutters even further open and leaned out, breathing in the warm, fragrant air. Gazing out into the lush forests of Lothlórien could not fail to calm anyone and she gradually succumbed to its relaxing aura. As she rested there, the singing once more caught her attention and she pushed her hair behind her delicately pointed ears to hear it all the better. The voices were beautiful and sweet and the words and melodies full of joy. She began to hum along; it was a song she knew well, and one of her favourites. In her opinion, the elves of Lothlórien had the most perfect voices of all her kind, calming and tender yet full of emotion and feeling. She didn't expect to find such singing in the dark forests of Mirkwood. Alarien had no desire to leave Lothlórien, it was at its most beautiful this time of year. The autumn was just arriving, and though the air was still warm, the leaves on the trees were turning golden, contrasting with the silvery grey of the trunks to provide a dazzling vision to the onlooker. She sighed, whether or not she wanted to leave Lothlórien, she had no choice, her mistress, the Lady Arwen, grand-daughter of the Lady Galadriel, daughter of Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell was making the journey to Northern Mirkwood, to meet the son of the Elf-King Thranduil, a possible husband. Alarien did not hold much hope for this prince, rumour had reached the woods of Lothlórien that he was an aloof, arrogant soul, with less humility and more self-involvement than might be hoped for. She knew that these rumours had reached Arwen, and that she had certainly come to the same conclusion as herself. Besides, she had a suspicion that Arwen had already fallen for another, although she did not know it could be. But she could sense that something was definitely different about her, she seemed to laugh and smile a great deal more, if that was possible. She and her mistress were life-long friends, having grown up together, but there were still many corners of Arwen's soul that Alarien did not know of. She remembered the way Arwen had scolded her when she had addressed her as 'my Lady'. Don't be silly, Alarien, she had said, I am always Arwen to you! The singing below her had dispersed into happy laughter and she laughed too. Having thought about it, it would be nice to spend some time alone with her mistress, it had been a while since they had talked, Arwen had recently been residing with her father at Rivendell, but had returned to Lothlórien only a few days before. Without her mistress to wait upon, Alarien had passed her days mostly in solitude, wandering the paths of the forests, singing to herself and re-immersing herself into it. She straightened up from the window ledge and turned to leave her chamber. It would soon be time to prepare Arwen's hair for dinner. As she opened her door she came face to face with the beautiful face of the Lady. A smile spread across Alarien's lips until she took in the worried expression that resided on Arwen's face. She quickly moved aside to let her into the room. Despite the tense mood she was presently in, Arwen appeared more to glide than walk as she entered the room. Even as she stood still, she possessed an elegant grace and fluidity of movement that surpassed even that of her fair kindred. She spoke, and her voice was soft and melodious.
"Alarien, I have want of your counsel." Surprised and a little worried, Alarien motioned for Arwen to sit down beside her on her bed.
"But of course, dear friend. What is it that troubles you so?"
"It is this business about Mirkwood." Ahhh, thought Alarien. I think I know where this is leading.
"I know what it is that you refer to, but why should that cause you concern. Should it not be a joyful occasion?" At this Arwen raised her delicate eyebrows. She suspected Alarien knew or had guessed more than she was hinting at, but decided to continue.
"You may well say that it should be joyful Alarien, and indeed it should be, but for the circumstances. I do not wish to leave Lothlórien to travel to the dark forests of Mirkwood to meet some arrogant prince who thinks more of his reflection than of anyone else." She paused slightly before continuing. "And there is also an added problem. I have pledged my heart to another, and I do not wish to find a suitor, for I am in love with one already." She waited for Alarien to say something, but she appeared to be thinking.
"But Arwen, why do you not just tell your father about it? He will understand, as long as this other elf is worthy of you."
"Well that is just it, Alarien. Prince Legolas and I have been intended for many years. My father believes that our union will be a happy and joyful one that will unite the two realms." She smirked, "obviously he has not heard the rumours we have!"
"But who is this elf to which you refer? Who do you love?"
"I do not love an elf, but a mortal man. Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Heir of Isildur and the rightful claimant to the throne of Gondor." Alarien remembered him clearly. She had met him a few years ago when he had come to Lothlórien accompanied by the wizard Gandalf. He had not originally intended to linger, but had gone on to stay many months. She had thought it was just the beauty of the forest that had made him stay, but now she knew better. He was a tall man, very fair of face, almost comparable to the fairest of her kindred. Like Arwen, and Elrond, and the Lord and Lady Celeborn and Galadriel, he possessed a kingly presence and aura. He was wise, strong and powerful, just and true. However, in one respect, he could never compare to her kind. He did not possess the elven immortality. In order to wed him, Arwen would have to sacrifice her immortality like her ancestor Lùthien. It would be a hard and bitter choice. As she looked into Arwen's eyes, she saw that she had been following her train of thought, and that her deep blue eyes were clouded with worry.
"I am unsure of what to say to you, Arwen. It is a harsh and bitter choice that you will have to make. I now understand why you choose not to inform your father. He would hate to see you leave him. This then begs the question. What are we to do?" Arwen thought for several moments. She got up and walked to the window. She breathed in deeply the scented air of the forest and searched for a solution to her problems. Suddenly she turned round and hurried over to where Alarien sat watching her on the bed. Sitting down next to her she clasped her hands in her own and looked deep into her friend's eyes.
"You must take my place Alarien!" She stared at her for a moment, not understanding what she was getting at. Impatiently, Arwen continued. "You were going to accompany me to Mirkwood anyway, but now, you shall go as me, and I as you!"
"But…but…Arwen, I couldn't possibly deceive both the King and his son. They would guess anyway, you are such a legendary beauty. They would see you and compare us and all would be discovered. There is sure to be some elves who have travelled to Lothlórien and seen you!"
"I? A legendary beauty? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder Alarien, and anyone that beheld you would see beauty indeed." She could see her friend was not convinced so she added, "But yes, I could be recognised, so I will wear a hooded cloak to make certain."
"But…but…"Alarien tailed off, it seemed that Arwen would not take no for an answer.
"If you would do this for me, I should be forever indebted to you, dear friend. I know not what else there is I can do." Emotion filled her eyes and Alarien knew she would have to help her.
"I will help you, dearest Arwen. But what do I say to the Prince? I have no wish to get to know an elf such as he." Arwen's eyes filled with gratitude and she squeezed her friend's hands before she answered.
"You say little, or nothing. Be aloof. You do not like him, and do not wish him to like you, I presume, so just speak little and only occasionally. Appear to be disinterested. It will be fine I promise."
"I trust you dear friend." Alarien paused, then a sparkle entered her eyes, "So tell me about Aragorn!"
* * *
It was now a week since their plan had been hatched and the preparations were almost complete for the trip to Mirkwood. It was almost a week's journey there and it had first been decided that a group of archers would accompany them to Mirkwood. However, Arwen had insisted it was not necessary, as King Thranduil had promised to send an envoy to accompany them from outside the boundaries, as it was not safe in the forests alone.
And now they were almost ready. Alarien was not afraid to admit that she was scared of the part she would have to play, and of discovery, but Arwen seemed positive that all would be well. She almost felt convinced. Tomorrow, she and Arwen would leave the safety and beauty of Lothlórien and travel to the dark and sinister Mirkwood where goodness knows what would await them. She sighed and began to prepare for bed, braiding her long hair into a plait that hung down her head. As she looked at her reflection, she couldn't help but wonder what the Prince would think of her. To her mind, no one could ever compare to the beauty of Lady Arwen, and there was truth in this, but she was indeed immensely fair of face although she did not have the luminescence that Arwen seemed to possess. Unlike her mistress, Alarien had green eyes, deep and emerald, like the leaves of Lothlórien. Her hair was of the darkest brown, like the earth after the rain. Where Arwen was of the sky and stars, Alarien was of the forests and earth. She was slender and tall and shapely, and graceful in her movement like her mistress, but her countenance was timid and shy, and she was not so happy in the company of strangers. However, Alarien saw none of this, she saw only her own face, as fair as the rest of her kind, but nothing more. She turned away and got into her bed, she had a long journey ahead and it would be wise to rest as much as she could.
A/N: So there you go! Love it or hate it? If you loved it, have a look at my other story 'There is only one' which I think is way better than this one, but never mind. It's an Elrohir/OC romance sideline, but it actually has a cool plot and everything!