A/N: I am very sorry for the delay between updates! I hope to turn over a new leaf from this point on.
Chapter 7 – Arwen's Song
Aragorn pressed flat palms against the cool stone wall of the passageway outside the Great Hall and leant forward, bowing his head. Arwen was here… His heart was racing, he could barely stand under such dizzying shock. He could still scarcely believe he had beholden her at the feast at all. There had been no warning, no mention, nothing whatsoever to indicate what peril he was in by being here! Her appearance had taken him completely unawares – and before he had had any chance of preparing himself, of hardening his heart and raising his defences, he had been swept off his feet in a storm of fierce and all-encompassing love.
His knees felt weak and trembled. He could not stop thinking longingly about Arwen, though he knew he must not, though every thought tormented him with immense pain and guilt. How? How could this be so? His determination and steadfast promises that he would not allow himself to love her had come to nothing, had fallen utterly short in preparing him for this moment! He felt naked, vulnerable, thoroughly unequipped. The prospect of facing the Elf-maiden who still possessed his heart this very evening was so daunting that, at this point in time, he would rather take another round with the Orcs!
Aragorn let out a soft groan and shaded his face with his hand. This was absurd! But his lack of trust in his own heart was now extreme, and he knew not what in all of Middle Earth he ought to do. He desperately wished there was someone whom he could ask for advice. The sole person in whom he had confided his love for Arwen Undómiel was his mother – but Gilraen was far away in Rivendell and could not avail him now. The only other person who was aware of his feelings – as far as he knew – was Elrond, yet as their revelation had grieved Aragorn's foster-father immensely, approaching him for counsel was out of the question. Aragorn had relied on Halbarad's advice much lately, and shared many things with the Dúnedan, but in all their time together he had not mentioned Arwen once. Halbarad was too far removed from Elrond and his daughter, and the customs of Elves in general, to be able to offer any useful insight. Aragorn searched his mind further. He would have turned to Elladan and Elrohir, whom he knew well and liked greatly; yet being Arwen's brothers he feared they might not take kindly to his feelings for their sister, and he would hate to mar their friendship with a similar pain that had dinted his close relationship with Elrond.
Aragorn's face twisted with anguish. Alas! Now more than ever he wished he had succeeded in relaying to Legolas his meeting with Arwen in Rivendell. The Elf was a good friend to both him and Arwen; he would understand the gravity of the circumstances, and was not so closely involved that his own interests might colour his judgement. But it was now too late to speak to him in confidence and receive his advice; such private speech while in the company of all Thranduil's guests in the Room of Song would be impossible.
A grim resignation was gathering in Aragorn's heart and his jaw set. He knew there was no alternative but to rely on his own strength and courage for tonight. He shut his eyes and strove to close his mind to the distant sound of folk enjoying the feast.
After a few minutes of solitude and focus, his breathing slowed and his head began to clear. He knew he must regain command of his fears if he was to if he was to rejoin the company in the Room of Song, and rejoin it he must. He would not let down Legolas again.
xXxXx
Legolas brooded silently in thought, unable to engage in conversation with Elladan and Elrohir. Since Aragorn had abruptly left the table, he had been unable to dispel the feeling that something worrisome was ailing the young man, and though he knew not what it was, the look of distress in Aragorn's eyes had shown him it was no trivial matter.
As more time passed and Aragorn did not return, Legolas's concern for his friend intensified. He looked up and saw that all around tables were breaking up as Elves merrily made their way out of the Great Hall. Coming to a decision, he sprang to his feet.
"I shall meet you in the Room of Song," he announced distractedly, and before Elladan or Elrohir could protest or insist on joining him, he slipped between into the crowd and forced his way to the far side of the Hall, where he let himself out through the door that his friend had used to make his escape.
"Estel!"
Aragorn was there in the hallway. As Legolas called his name, the young man flinched and looked round wide-eyed, as if he had been caught up to some mischief. Then his shoulders sagged.
"Legolas, I am sorry –"
The Elf rushed to Aragorn's side, noting the solemnity of his expression. "What is the matter, Estel? Are you taken unwell again?"
Aragorn shook his head, his eyes averted and veiled.
"Are you sure?" Legolas rested a hand on Aragorn's shoulder, studying him worriedly. "If you are not unwell, what troubles you so greatly that you could no longer bear to remain at the feast?"
Now Aragorn looked up gravely, and it did not escape Legolas's notice how the man's grey eyes flickered to the Great Hall before he spoke, nor how he suddenly appeared far older than his twenty-five years.
"There is something I must share with you," he said quietly, "without any further delay."
Aragorn's words nudged something in Legolas's memory, and understanding clicked into place. Aragorn had been attempting to broach a subject with him all that day, some matter unsuitable for others' ears, yet he had passed him off. The Elf felt a pang of regret and self-reproach, especially in the knowledge that they now had little time before someone noticed their absence or passed them by.
"Ai! Forgive me, Estel, I should have let you speak to me earlier. Please – you have my full attention. I am listening."
Aragorn took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. Then, over the rumble of voices pouring out of the doorway behind him, he began to speak, slowly, eyes closed, as if it took all his strength to drag forth the words.
"Two weeks before I left Imladris, Lady Arwen came to visit her father."
"Yes, I was aware of that," said Legolas, recalling his earlier conversation with Arwen. "So you met her…?" he prompted.
Aragorn nodded and swallowed thickly. "While she was in Imladris, something – something happened…" He glanced up, apparently fearful that he had already revealed too much, but Legolas had little to go on, having neither Elrond's great powers of deduction nor his far-seeing perception.
"Of what are you speaking, Estel?" he enquired patiently.
Aragorn threw him a strangled look and struggled to disgorge his words. "Something that will make meeting her again very difficult."
"Difficult?" Legolas echoed blankly.
Colour more intense than Thranduil's favourite Dorwinian wine flooded Aragorn's face. "Awkward," he admitted in a whisper.
Legolas confessed himself confused. Aragorn was intimating that he had somehow acted inappropriately in Arwen's presence, but he was sure that the man was entirely mistaken! By Elbereth, Aragorn was one of the last persons in Middle Earth from whom he would expect such behaviour! He could not imagine the young man being rude and callous in any way, and certainly not towards Arwen.
Legolas smiled kindly. "Aragorn, do not let this trouble you. I am sure that you are imagining an event of this nature – or have misconstrued what did indeed take place. I seriously doubt that you have behaved in any way that is as inappropriate as you are suggesting."
Aragorn gazed beseechingly at Legolas, his expression torn. "Nay, you must believe me, Legolas! I am afraid that this is no mere figment of my imagination. What happened was… something that I regret immensely. I – I am truly ashamed of how I behaved."
At that moment Legolas espied Elladan wending his way towards them.
"Alas, Estel," Legolas uttered quickly, "no more time is granted to us at present. Let us speak of this some other occasion once we are in private. On the morrow, I promise." He gave Aragorn a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder and fell silent just as Elladan stood before them.
"What is this?" said the Elf. "Is your wound grieving you again, Estel? I saw you leave the table early."
Aragorn cleared his face of much of the distress that had been there only moments before and offered up a fair attempt at a smile. Legolas felt a wave of admiration for the man, but he was unable to shake off the sense of lingering concern.
"No, I am quite alright now, thank you," Aragorn insisted, with a nod of gratitude at the enquiry.
Elladan did not appear to notice anything off-kilter. "So you will join me and my brother in the next room, and keep Legolas from skulking out here? There will be much drinking and singing, and time for talking. My sister wishes to see you, too."
Aragorn glanced sidelong at Legolas, who gazed back at him beseechingly. His dearest wish was to pass the evening with his friends, and Aragorn counted highly among them. It would not be right for him to be absent, and for such a nebulous reason.
"Yes," Aragorn conceded, his expression stoical. "I will join you."
His answer gave Legolas much gladness and made Elladan smile in delight.
"Have courage, Estel," Legolas whispered as he guided Aragorn after the dark-haired Elf and through the bustling Great Hall. "I shall remain by your side and we shall have a pleasant time together, trust me."
So they passed through a door at the lower end of the cavern where they had feasted and came into the Room of Song. This was a smaller, more intimate chamber, shaped round like a bowl, and it glowed with the light of many fires and candles that lined its walls. To one side a table groaned under the weight of barrels and pitchers of ruby-red wine, while to the other, partially obscured by the chattering Elves and Men, was a dais upon which a small group of minstrels were playing beautiful, uplifting music.
"Here!" cried a voice in greeting. It was Elrohir, standing beside his brother in the glow of one of the fireplaces. Eagerly Legolas led Aragorn over, but when Aragorn realised who else was present he seemed to cower back. Legolas placed a hand firmly in the small of the man's back and steered him forwards. Whatever the man's fears, he surely had no reason to be afraid of Elrond's gentle daughter.
"I am glad that you have decided to return to us," quipped Elrohir, grinning mischievously at the man as he handed goblets of wine each to him and Legolas. Aragorn studied the red liquid with lowered eyes, and Elrohir's tone turned more understanding. "Are you well, Estel?"
Legolas stepped in, willingly taking on the role of advocate for his indisposed young friend. "Estel has returned to us in the prime of health," he said, making the twin brothers both smile with relief. With them satisfied and occupied with their own conversation, Legolas turned to address Arwen, who had been watching the interchange with much thought and interest.
"Arwen, I believe I do not need to give an introduction to Aragorn…"
Arwen smiled at the Dúnedan, who offered her a gracious bow. Once he had straightened up, he remained with head bowed and eyes lowered, the picture of utmost respect. Yet Legolas had a feeling that the outer show of calm belied something very different within.
"Yes, we have met," said Arwen softly, her eyes glowing like the depths of a mountain lake on a bright day of sunshine as they lingered on Aragorn's humbled form. "It is an unexpected pleasure to find you here, Estel. I am very glad to see you again."
"As am I, my lady," Aragorn whispered, and at last Legolas saw the young man lift his eyes to the Elf-maiden before him. Aragorn's grey eyes flicked up for a moment, and Legolas was startled by the vulnerability suddenly laid bare – how those eyes seemed almost fearful, as if all the pain in Arda would flood his heart at the mere sight of Elrond's daughter – but it was for the briefest of moments. When Arwen smiled, Aragorn's gaze fell down once more, as deferential as if one of the hallowed Valar was standing there before him in dazzling light.
"I am sad that we should meet under such circumstances," said Arwen. "I gather that you were wounded last night. I hope that you did not take grievous harm. How do you fare now?"
Legolas thought it was an amicable and harmless enough question, but he discerned a faint sheen of sweat across the man's brow, and the wine in his cup rippled with a slight tremor from his hand. "My head wound is still healing. But I am otherwise quite well, thank you," he said quietly, and hastily gulped down some wine.
Legolas smiled in amusement, quite enjoying watching the mysteriously tentative exchange between his two friends. There was something simmering unspoken between the pair's innocuous words, and he found himself insatiably curious to decipher its unfathomable nature.
"How have you found your stay so far in King Thranduil's halls?" Arwen addressed Aragorn, wearing an expression of polite intrigue.
"Most hospitable, I thank you," said Aragorn, fleetingly glancing at her then at Legolas, as if begging reassurance. "It is a welcome rest from the hardships of the Wild and the insecurity that comes with it…" He trailed off, and Legolas's heart expanded with compassion, understanding all too well Aragorn's painfully fresh memories of the attack the night before.
"Until only a few hours ago, Aragorn had not strayed further than the Halls of Healing," Legolas said, and winked at the young man in an attempt to lighten his mood. "So you can be assured that the best is still to come."
Arwen's lips curved up with laughter. "Ah, so you have not yet had the pleasure of meeting Legolas's father?" Her eyes twinkled at Legolas, and the Elf snorted. He was assured that Aragorn's meeting with his father was certainly not going to be one of the man's best moments in the Woodland Kingdom.
To Legolas's surprise, Aragorn's head jerked up at Arwen's words. He looked startlingly like a naughty little boy who had just done something he knew full well he had been strictly prohibited from doing.
Legolas's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Estel?" he said dangerously, his voice uncannily akin to his father's.
Aragorn shrank a little. "I'm afraid I have," he confessed, his voice higher than normal.
Legolas pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Beside him soft musical laughter rained freely from Arwen's lips. Legolas prayed to the Valar that Aragorn's encounter with his father had not been as disastrous as he had dreaded it might be, given his father's recent frame of mind.
"I believe I advised you to refrain from engaging my father in conversation, did I not?" he moaned.
He opened his eyes to find Aragorn hastily imbibing the little wine that still remained in his goblet.
"Please excuse me," he said on emerging, "I should like some more refreshments." Then Aragorn gave a stiff bow and fled to the drinks table.
Legolas sighed in fond exasperation and shook his head, turning to Arwen. The ghost of her last laugh faded from her face and she watched Aragorn's retreat with regret.
"Poor Estel," Legolas said pityingly. "He has been through more than one sore trial in the last twenty-four hours, I fear, especially for one so young. It is clearly taking its toll on him. And I would do well to remember that, too." He knew Aragorn had made an innocent, well-meaning mistake in approaching his father – for he doubted his father would have had the remotest inclination to go within twenty feet of the man, let alone grace him with his conversation.
Arwen smiled faintly. "I understand. I cannot begin to imagine the horror of finding oneself and one's companions unexpectedly in mortal peril, and I know that such trauma will weigh heavily on Aragorn's mind. He fears for his friends more than for himself."
Legolas nodded in agreement. Sometimes Aragorn was too selfless for his own good.
There was a pause as the two Elves listened to the piping of sweet melodies over the mirthful chatter that filled the hall, and Legolas was allowed to mull over Aragorn's earlier words to him. Could he somehow discern whether there was any truth in Aragorn's fear that he had behaved inappropriately in Imladris? He would dearly like to find out the truth, both to settle his curiosity and to satisfy himself that Aragorn was indeed worrying needlessly. Only then would he succeed in putting Aragorn at ease.
The prince observed Arwen for a moment, fascinated by the unreadable, enigmatic expression on her fair face as she watched Aragorn across the room. A rather devious idea was taking shape in his mind, and, feeling a little daring after several goblets of strong wine, Legolas decided it would be diverting to hazard it.
"May I ask something of you?" he said, offering Arwen the innocently enquiring expression that had afforded him many indulgences as an Elfling.
"Of course, mellon nín."
"By any chance, did something strange take place when you met Aragorn in Imladris?"
Arwen's eyes flew wide. "What did you say?" she said, her voice breathless.
"Forgive me," Legolas demurred hurriedly, holding his hand up in courteous surrender, "I must be mistaken. Please, think nothing of it."
"Why do you ask such a question?" Now Arwen was looking worried and deathly pale. Legolas felt a twinge of self-reproach, knowing he was the cause.
"It was a mistake," he assured her firmly. That, however, was a perfect lie. Arwen's response to his question had proved very illuminating, for it demonstrated that, as Aragorn had divulged, something had indeed taken place between him and Arwen. Yet Legolas knew he had already trespassed enough; he would not press Arwen further if she was reluctant to speak of it. He did not wish to cause either of his friends any more distress than was necessary. He looked around and noted Aragorn returning with his refilled goblet.
It was then that Arwen began to speak, but she broke off almost at once as she too spotted the man's approach. However, instead of returning to him and Arwen, Aragorn passed them by. Instead he joined Elladan and Elrohir, who greeted him with wide smiles and immediately locked their foster brother in enthusiastic conversation. Legolas did not miss the fleeting flicker of dismay in Arwen's eyes and how her expression fell downcast.
"What were you about to say?" Legolas asked.
Arwen shook her head as if dazed. "It was nothing… Nothing happened." But she did not meet his eyes.
Legolas watched her thoughtfully. Now more than ever he was sure that Arwen was concealing something, but what it was he could not say. Was she unwilling to speak of it for Aragorn's sake? Was she trying to protect him, afraid that speaking of it would bring him distress or embarrassment? That seemed the most plausible explanation available to him currently, but Legolas still could not fathom what in Arda Aragorn could have possibly done to lead to such peculiar behaviour in the pair of them.
Now feeling incredibly guilty for having sprung such a probing question on the Elf-maiden, Legolas hastily searched for a lighter topic of conversation, but Arwen beat him to it.
"How is it that you and Aragorn are friends?" she asked, raising guarded eyes to his.
Legolas gladly seized on the new subject. "I met Aragorn on a couple of occasions during his youth when I journeyed to Imladris, where your father was raising him under the name of Estel."
"And – what was he like as a child?" Arwen wore a look of careful interest.
Legolas smiled with the memory, once more filled with the joy that young Estel had inspired in him, and happily sipped on his wine.
"Estel was an endearing child – quiet, well-mannered, attentive, yet full of the vigour and curiosity of youth. I found myself glad of his company." Legolas realised he was beaming as he remembered little Estel tugging on his hand while he led him through the gardens of Imladris, desperate to show him his favourite places – the waterfall, the tracking paddock, the climbing tree, the boat house. "He was incredibly inquisitive – too inquisitive, some might say! When I emerged from a council in your father's receiving chamber, I found that Elladan had caught Estel hanging upside down off a balcony so that he could listen in through the high window that was open. He had a good deal of bravery and ingenuity even at that age!"
The spark of laughter had returned to Arwen's blue eyes and Legolas realised that she was hanging onto his every word about Aragorn in his childhood. He eagerly continued, keen to assuage his own conscience.
"He was always trying to please others, especially – and perhaps because of – his mother, Gilraen… She was always so sad and distant, even with her own son. And he was so at one with animals and trees… so very charmingly Elf-like." Legolas laughed. "You will not believe it, but I even mistook Estel for an Elfling when I first laid eyes on him, for your father had let his hair grow long and had dressed him in Elven clothes."
"Much like you have tonight," Arwen laughed, throwing Legolas a pointed look.
Legolas grinned, a sparkle of wickedness in his eye. "Yes, I remembered that the Elven look suited him well. Do you not agree?"
Arwen's eyes travelled to where Aragorn was standing with her brothers. "I cannot contest your claim," she equivocated, a delicate rosy hue imbuing her cheeks. "I seem to recall you yourself once wearing similar robes to a couple of hundred years ago. Am I wrong?"
"Nay, you are not," said Legolas. "Those garments are indeed mine. But I thought they would look quite fine on Aragorn. And I have no hesitation in saying that I was right. Aragorn!" he called. "Estel!" The man's head whipped round, his whole posture guarded as a dog regards its master when fearing some retribution. "Would you join us for a moment?"
Aragorn approached, full of apprehension. "How may I help you?" he asked warily.
Legolas beamed at him. "Arwen and I were just discussing how fine you look in Elven robes. I wished for a closer look."
Aragorn looked horrified at the realisation that he had been surveyed unawares for some time. "You – what?" he choked out, aghast.
Legolas gave a low chuckle, but rather than seeing the joke Aragorn seemed crushed by embarrassment. His face flooded with colour and he gestured to his goblet, which was already empty once more.
"I beg for your leave," he stammered, and at the slightest nod from Legolas and the welling of pity in Arwen's eyes, he was gone.
"I must apologise on Aragorn's behalf," Legolas said, sobering up. It had just occurred to him that Aragorn had consumed a sizable quantity wine, and this was not some standard vintage one might find in the halls of Men, or even Imladris. This potent wine may not turn the heads of the Elves, but a man unaccustomed to drinking would be susceptible to its influence, and he knew he ought to step in before matters spiralled out of control.
"Please excuse me for a moment. I must speak with him."
Legolas hurried to the drinks table. He was concerned for Aragorn – not only his present discomfort, but also his reputation. For if the wine began to take command, the young man might make impressions that were not easily corrected – not only in Thranduil's eyes, but also in Arwen's – and clearly Aragorn was highly troubled over how the Elf-maiden regarded him.
xXxXx
Aragorn clutched his refilled goblet tightly, savouring the brief reprieve from Arwen's company. Nausea bubbled away in his belly. He felt utterly unprepared for this meeting. He could not bear to stand in Arwen's presence, to speak and yet leave volumes unsaid, to calmly eschew all expression and yet be in torment inside.
"Aragorn?"
He gave such a start that he nearly spilt his wine over the fine Elven garments in which he was clad. With his hand on his frantic heart, Aragorn spun round – but it was only Legolas.
"Estel, it is not wise to drink so voraciously." The Elf kept his voice low and his face was serious as he attempted to pry the goblet out of Aragorn's hands, but Aragorn glowered at him.
"Is this how you treat your guests, Legolas son of Thranduil? You are concerned that they will deplete the palace's store of Dorwinian? May I not show my appreciation for your father's fine taste in wine?"
Legolas raised his eyebrows sceptically. "So you would have me believe that the swiftness with which you are devouring this Dorwinian is solely due to its refined flavour?" he said sardonically.
Aragorn pursed his lips grimly and his grip slackened. "Not solely, no," he conceded at last.
Legolas smirked as he removed the goblet, and Aragorn's scowl intensified. Did Legolas not understand him at all? If he was to pass the evening in Arwen's company, as the Elf plainly wished, he necessarily required a little tonic to take the edge off his nerves. Surely Legolas knew him better than to think he would gorge on barrels of wine with careless abandon and lose his head completely.
"Why should I not be permitted a calming draught?" he asked morosely. "I shall not behave like a drunkard, you have my word."
Legolas let out a laugh, and Aragorn frowned at him, puzzled. "Come now, Estel! You have nothing to fear from Arwen!" the Elf assured him quietly. "She regards you very highly, whatever you might think."
Aragorn cringed and could not hold his gaze. Legolas was unquestionably wrong. He knew how he must appear to such a wise and dignified Elf-maiden – an impertinent, egotistical mortal, so blinded by delusions of love that he had dared to imagine she might have feelings for him too, so full of his own title that he actually believed she could sever her ties to her Elven kin and discard her priceless immortality for his sake, a grim wandering Man with absolutely nothing to offer! A foul taste filled Aragorn's mouth. He felt sick at his own arrogance, at the pride of his younger self. It was laughable. Though Arwen was too gracious to portray it openly, he knew that secretly she must be mocking his pathetic predicament, and the sadness ripped him to pieces.
Legolas sighed, having discerned Aragorn's low mood, and his humour faded. "Even if you take no heed of my assurance, Estel," he said gently, "you should know it is unwise to rely on liquor for relaxation. Why not listen to the music? The Elves are taking it in turns to sing – ah." His voice took on an edge, and Aragorn looked around, curious as to why Legolas seemed to have a sudden change of heart. "It – it would seem that Arwen is to sing for us now…"
Aragorn's eyes flew wide. He saw with dismay that in his absence Arwen had indeed been persuaded to take her turn in singing for the throng. Nay, he could not bear this new ordeal! He remembered all too well the sound of her voice permeating the warm September air as he had walked high-hearted beneath the softly rustling birches of Rivendell… Her song was too enchanting, too otherworldly… Nay, even if he was not caught so unguarded this time, he could not listen and still maintain this act of composure. And if anyone should discern his true feelings for Arwen, all would be lost.
Driven to desperation, Aragorn snagged the goblet from Legolas's hand and tipped the wine into his dry mouth.
"Estel!" Legolas hissed, clearly rattled that he had been caught off guard by one of the race of Men. "By the Valar, nothing you could have done could warrant such discomfort, or such need for the benumbing effect of wine! Do not let yourself become over-merry, I beg you!"
"There is no risk of that," Aragorn muttered darkly, eyeing up the dais where Arwen had joined the musicians. A hush fell as the Elves and the few Dúnedain present became aware that Elrond's daughter was to bestow on them a song.
"All the same," Legolas whispered, reclaiming the cup from Aragorn's slackened grip, "will you not take solace from my presence, and not my father's best vintage? Or is my friendship not enough?" At this Aragorn felt a stab of guilt. But the Elf continued, full of compassion, "I know not all that troubles you, Estel, but I will stand by you through this, and you shall share your full tale with me tomorrow, if that will aid you. I implore you to harken to my words, and not the wine."
Aragorn looked at him long and slowly, ruminating over Legolas's speech. He realised then that if the Elf was willing to stand by him in solidarity without even knowing half of what perturbed him about Arwen's presence, without passing judgement or scorn, and promised to listen to his full confession on the morrow, then he had a true friend indeed.
Aragorn smiled gratefully and nodded. "Yes," he conceded, "I have peace enough to know you are with me. Thank you, mellon nín. I was wrong to fall into despair."
Legolas smiled and embraced Aragorn in a brotherly fashion, and much of the tension that had been oppressing Aragorn that evening melted away. Then the two stood back, and Aragorn braced himself for what was to come. He almost wished to drown out Arwen's song with his own clamouring thoughts, but having heard her singing in the vales of Rivendell he knew that to not hearken to her voice would be to deprive himself of an experience of beauty and wonder alike to naught else in Arda. Cautiously he tilted his head to peer between the crowd and listened.
When spring brings life to wood and glade
And sun gives warmth to earth and blade,
When green shoots bud upon the tree
And blossoms bloom and streams run free,
We dream and sing of days to come,
The pledge of bliss when toils are done.
Arwen's melodious voice filled the candlelit chamber, and Aragorn willed his heart to harden against its charms. But her voice was too beguiling, too perilous! Visions of sunlit days in the birchwoods of Imladris formed colourfully before his eyes, so vivid he barely knew if he was standing here in the crowded assembly with Legolas or was yet back under the birches of Imladris with Arwen alone. He was filled with an inexplicable feeling of contentment, and he ached to hear her sing again, taken by a wild fancy that the words of her song were directed at him… But that was insanity! Aragorn closed his eyes, knowing he must shun all such temptations, and held his breath.
When summer reigns o'er balmy days
And lands lie under golden haze,
When there's delight in shallow pool
And under trees the shade is cool,
We laugh for joy in days of peace
And know our love will never cease.
Alas, he could not resist! He could not fail to read more into Arwen's words and hope that in her song she might be alluding to their glad time together in Rivendell those years ago. His eyes flew up to rest upon her, and overwhelming adoration flooded his entire being. How blessed he was to be looking on her again, after being bereft for so long, how exhilarated and terrified in one! He stood very still, trying to suppress every sign of the delight now singing in his every fibre in harmony with her song – for while he could no longer trick his heart into remaining unmoved by the sound of her voice, he knew he must fool the rest of the company into believing he was nothing more than mildly entertained.
He gazed at Arwen, mesmerised and oblivious to all else in the room. All he cared about in that moment was that she continued to sing, for while she gifted them with the enchantment of Elven music he was permitted to look upon her still…
When autumn changes green to gold
And rainy days start to unfold,
When red-gold leaves fall to cool earth
And fire is kindling in the hearth,
I shall recall glad times we shared
And let my heart rest longer there.
The ache of true and unadulterated love was beating strong within Aragorn's chest, all the while the candlelight shone in Arwen's eyes and caught the circlet in her hair, giving the impression that her head was crowned with twinkling stars that had fallen from the heavens. Verily she was the like of Lúthien, the Evenstar of the Firstborn, utterly breath-taking in beauty.
And without warning, Arwen's piercing eyes struck his. They pierced him deep to the core, as if a shard of starlight had struck him down. Aragorn was too unready to look away at once. He felt paralysed by the sudden contact, as if distance or Elves and Men between them was nothing. In the unexpected intimacy, his heart burst into sudden flame, blazing with fierce emotion, incomprehensible in its intensity.
Then unable to breathe, Aragorn dropped his gaze to the floor.
By the Valar, what had just happened? Had his heart betrayed him in that moment of vulnerability, inadvertently revealing to Arwen that he still cared for her deeply? Yet whatever he had felt for her before, whatever feelings he had striven to suppress, it had never been this earth-shattering force, this pure, all-encompassing love that lit everything in Arda with radiant joy and beauty. Against all his vain attempts, had he come to love her even more with time?
Then his heart thudded as another incredible idea dawned on him. In that glance had he in fact caught an echo of Arwen's heart?
Now Aragorn hoped beyond reason that her song and her glance meant that she cared for him still. The yearning was painfully strong within him, but he feared that it was nothing more than a whimsical fancy devoid of all rationality and truth.
He suddenly came to. He felt hot all over, and afraid that his exchange with Arwen had not gone unnoticed. He snatched a glance at Legolas. To his alarm the Elf was watching him attentively, a look of sudden understanding in his eyes. By Elbereth!
Consumed by embarrassment, Aragorn's cheeks burned hot. He would rather dance about half-naked and drunk in front of King Thranduil than have Legolas catch him with doe-eyes as he gazed at Elrond's daughter!
This time Legolas did not laugh. His expression sombre, he grasped Aragorn's shoulder in solidarity before turning pointedly to watch Arwen finish her final verse. Aragorn swallowed his fears and followed suit, both welcoming and recoiling from his last chance to hear her sing, all the while praying that Legolas would never mention what he had just witnessed and most likely deduced.
When winter's bite is on the air
And trees stand stark with branches bare,
When darkness takes the shortening days
And life and joy begin to fade,
We'll face what comes with hands entwined
And stay as one till end of time.
The party applauded Arwen fervently, and she curtseyed, a shy smile on her face. Aragorn sighed and turned away, snatching a glance at the onlookers on either side. To his relief, no disapproving glances nor words of censure were directed towards him. He was particularly thankful that Elrond was busily occupied by King Thranduil, and had his back to him. All around Elves were merrily resuming their conversations and one of the minstrels was taking up an unaccompanied melody on the harp. Over in the distance, many of the Dúnedain were shaking their heads and looking at each other dazedly, as if waking from a strange dream. Such was the effect of Elven song on those unaccustomed to its powers. Aragorn watched them, half-wishing he had passed the night in their company and been spared the torture of Arwen's close presence.
Legolas leant in. "You have coped admirably well," he said, and his face was kind. He indicated that they should move back to their seats by the fire. "Let us leave her to her admirers, and rejoin Elladan and Elrohir."
Aragorn welcomed the distraction, and the pair returned to the brothers, who were debating in good humour which of them had the finest voice. The four settled down by the fire and surprisingly soon Aragorn sank into easy conversation with his foster-brothers. With Arwen caught up by several Elves in Thranduil's court who were in admiration of her singing, Aragorn could relax and at last he found himself enjoying the evening with Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir, just as he had originally anticipated.
xXxXx
Legolas sat back, glad to see his friend opening up and enjoying himself at last. With Aragorn talking happily with Elrond's sons, he allowed himself to drift off into his own thoughts for a while.
The evening had certainly been full of surprises, but what he had witnessed left him sure that many more were still to come. From scrutinising Aragorn and Arwen's mannerisms he knew that something was afoot between them, but the nature of the affair still eluded him. Aragorn would have him believe that he had offended Arwen in some way – perhaps he had insulted her, or caused her some distress – but Legolas could scarcely believe it, or contrive any manner in which this could have possibly taken place.
And even if Aragorn had erred in such a way, he was absolutely convinced it was accidental. Arwen's heart was full of forgiveness and understanding – she would sooner embrace someone who had done her wrong than hold a grudge against them, and would certainly not let a mistaken slip of the tongue gauge a great rift between them. Her gentle manner and the cautiously restrained interest she had shown Aragorn during their conversation clearly indicated that she was not distressed by his presence – quite the opposite, in fact. She was certainly neither hurt nor angry, and yet Aragorn was acting as if his crime was monumental, unforgivable, even irreparable. Was he overreacting, or reading too much into events? Legolas could not say. It was most odd.
Nevertheless, Legolas knew he done enough prying into the secret for one day. He did not wish any more discomfort on Aragorn, no matter how much he wanted to get to the bottom of the elusive mystery. He could wait and seek an answer on the morrow.
xXxXx
Thank you for reading! Next time we will see much clashing of views in Thranduil and Elrond's council – who will come out on top? And where will Legolas and Aragorn stand?
Please let me know what you thought of the chapter and what you would like to see next in the story – it's been a while since I last wrote and your reviews are so helpful!
