A/N: Well, as promised, here is the next chapter, less than 24 hours after
I promised it! (Don't get too used to it, though … I was almost done with
it when I posted Ch. 5.) It's even nice and long to make up for the fact
that chapter 5 was so pathetically short. Thank you to all my reviewers …
you are wonderful! (Even if you constantly threaten me with bodily injury
if I don't write faster. Luckily, none of you know where I am, so I can
sleep at night …) Anyway, this is a flashback that tries to explain what
the heck was going on between Legolas, Arwen, and Aragorn. I tried to keep
it grounded in the story that's in Appendix A of Lord of the Rings, but
with fanfiction, it's so tempting to just let my imagination go. So … this
is my imagination (heavily edited). Enjoy!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
600 years previously, in Rivendell …
The feast celebrating the autumn harvest had ended hours before, and Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, had called for his minstrels to come forth. Dancing and merriment commenced, and amidst all the whirl and gaiety of the dances was Arwen Undómiel, clad in a dress that reminded Legolas of the twilight – it was purple in one light, gray in another, reddish-gold in still another. She wore garland of autumn berries in her hair, and in the light of the candles she shone like the Evenstar that was her namesake. Legolas watched her weave her way through the complicated Elvish dance, fascinated by the change in the companion of his youth. The last time he had seen Arwen, she was riding like the wind on her father's prize stallion and wearing a pair of breeches stolen from one of her brothers.
He smiled to himself and took a drink of Elvish wine as he tried to reconcile the new knowledge that the hellion that he had known was grown into a vivacious being of grace and beauty. She was but newly returned from Lórien, where she had been staying with her mother's kin. At least, that was what Elrond had told Legolas one day when Arwen did not come to the noon meal.
He had been been crushed. Arwen had been his constant companion, and could ride a horse or use a bow almost as well as he. He had private suspicions that Elrond had deliberately separated them, but his studies soon grew more difficult, absorbing more of his attention, and he had less time to think about her. She never totally disappeared from his mind, however, and a flood of strange new emotions swirled through him as he gazed upon her, flushed and laughing with the exertions of the dance.
The music concluded with a grand flourish, and the dancers scattered to find refreshment. Legolas's heart gave an odd leap as he saw Arwen threading her way through the crowd towards him. He watched her expectantly, and their eyes met. For a moment, her face remained blank. After a split second, though, her eyes lit up in recognition. "Legolas!" she exclaimed, smiling with delight. "How splendid!"
Legolas bowed deeply. "Mae govannen, Undómiel," he said. [Well met, Evenstar.]
She grinned at him. "Well, I am at least relieved to know that you have learned some manners in our years apart."
He looked at her with a mock-wounded expression. "I have learned many things during our separation."
Arwen gazed out on the dance floor and gave him a mischievous glance. "Have you learned to dance?" she asked innocently.
He grinned as he held out his hand. "You can only find out one way."
She took his hand, but said archly, "That is not precisely true. I could just evaluate your performance from the safety of the sidelines."
He grinned. "I see that for all the careful instruction you received in Lórien, you did not learn to curb your tongue."
She raised her eyebrows. "I see that my father did not teach you any repartee along with his archery instructions."
"I am but a rustic elf from the Mirkwood, lady," he said humbly bowing, but his eyes twinkling with mischief.
She raised her eyebrows. "Indeed," she said coolly. "We shall see."
He shrugged noncommittally and led her out onto the dance floor. They listened for a moment to the opening bars of the song, and Arwen's eyes sparkled as she recognized it. It was a dance that combined the flowing grace of a waltz with the speed and elaborateness of a swing dance.
They began the dance at the normal pace, but Arwen's natural high spirits and her wish to outstrip Legolas led to the pair doing the steps twice as fast as the other couples. They whirled around the floor, heedless of the disbelieving stares from the other Elves. After a few minutes, though, the accelerated pace was taking its toll. Arwen felt that she was wearing too many layers, and Legolas was silently cursing the fact that his dressy ensemble included no less than three tunics. His uncomfortable state was forgotten when they passed under a torch, and he noticed Arwen's flushed countenance in the light.
"Would you like to slow down?" he asked mischievously. "Your cheeks seem a bit rosier than is usual."
Arwen's eyes widened as she feined innocence. "I do not know what you mean, Legolas. I could dance like this for hours." She looked pointedly at his forehead. "I think that you should sit down, however. I think I see a fine sheen of perspiration on your noble alabaster brow. We should not risk the health of a Prince of the Mirkwood."
Legolas could contain himself no longer. He threw back his head and laughed as he pulled her out of the dance and over to the nearest empty bench. "You win," he said. "You are the better dancer. I need to rest for a bit."
She shook her head as she slumped against the wall. "Nay, Legolas. I was just about ready to collapse as well. It is a draw."
"We were always evenly matched," he said quietly.
Arwen felt her heart constrict painfully as she watched the candlelight glint in his hair and make his skin look like burnished gold.
He looked at her, his eyes unfathomable in the soft light. "I am glad you are back, Undómiel," he said quietly.
For the first time in her life, she was speechless. She felt pinned under his gaze. It was not unpleasant, but there was no telling what might happen. She was not out of control, but she felt like she could be at any second. His eyes seemed to be drawing her out of herself. Then there came a moment when the music and chatter seemed to die away, and it was just them sitting on a bench bathed in golden candlelight. Time was slowing and bearing down on them. They drew closer to each other, and he opened his mouth to speak when a young and rather delicate looking elf maid hesitantly stood before him and asked for the next dance.
The delicate moment shattered. Legolas jerked away as if slapped. Arwen took a deep breath, trying to gain a measure of control.
He glanced at Arwen a split second before he smiled warmly at the girl and led her out onto the floor.
She leaned back against the wall and tried to sort out her roiling emotions as she watched them for awhile. Legolas never even looked over in her direction once. She sighed in frustration. What was the matter with her? She did not *need* Legolas's attention. Did she? Shaking off that dangerous question, she decided that maybe dancing would be the thing to take her mind off of her problems.
Scanning the room, she noticed a handsome youth with shoulder length black hair and gray eyes standing in a quiet corner, watching the revelry with a slightly melancholy air. A slight smile curled her mouth as she recognized the youth as Aragorn, whom she had met earlier in the day. It had been an odd meeting – he had been singing the lay of Beren and Lúthien when they ran into each other. And he had called her Tinúviel, just as Beren had called Lúthien in the song. They talked for a bit – he introduced himself, and told her with pride that he was Lord of the Dúnedain. He was so young, but there was something about him that intrigued her.
Forcibly putting Legolas out of her mind for the time being, she walked over to Aragorn. Pity welled up in her heart as she saw his uncomfortably forced air of nonchalance. He looked terribly out of his depth at a party full of lively Elves.
"Greetings, Aragorn," she said kindly as she sat down on the bench next to him. His double take was almost comical. His eyes were wide with shock as he exclaimed, "Tinúviel!"
"Have you forgotten our meeting so soon?" she teased. "I am Arwen, remember? Be careful of the names you give to people. You have not yet heard me sing," she added, laughing. [A/N: For those of you who don't know, "Tinúviel" means "nightingale".]
The boy blushed and looked away. "I could not easily forget our meeting," he said under his breath.
Arwen heard his words, but chose to ignore them. "Would you care to dance?" she asked lightly, standing up.
Aragorn flew to his feet, face alight with glee. "Of course," he said. He eagerly thrust out his elbow, and Arwen took it.
She was expecting an awkward dance, and was pleasantly surprised that the young Man moved with an almost Elvish grace. He was also an interesting conversationalist, witty but with an intriguing hint of sorrow in the depths of his sea-gray eyes. He was telling her of his youth in Rivendell when his eyes slightly narrowed at something over her shoulder. She turned to see what he was scowling at.
"May I cut in?" Legolas asked smoothly.
"What are you *doing*?" she asked in an angry whisper. It was highly unusual to cut in. Almost rude, even. And Aragorn was a young Man. She did not know what he would do.
Legolas merely stood there and waited, looking at him.
Aragorn was tense and silent as he thoughtfully looked back at Legolas. Gray eyes met blue in a silent test, and just when Arwen felt she could not take another second of the odd tension, Aragorn suddenly raised his eyebrows and grinned as he said, "Of course you may, but I do not know how the lady will feel about it."
Legolas and Arwen both looked at him with puzzled expressions. Playfully shrugging, Aragorn released Arwen and took hold of Legolas and began to lead him through the dance. The tension eased, and several Elves around them began laughing heartily, and a few shouted for Legolas to make his hips sway more, or to throw his chest out a little bit.
Legolas took the ribbing with good nature, but Arwen saw that the tips of his ears were flushed a delicate pink with embarrassment.
After the dance ended, Aragorn led Legolas back to Arwen. "Lady, I thank you for your kindness in allowing me to dance with your graceful partner," he said, mischief dancing in his eyes.
Arwen tried to smother a grin as she inclined her head and replied, "It was a joy to see such a skillful and well-matched pair."
Legolas raised his eyebrow, but said nothing.
Aragorn chuckled. "Tenna' ento lye omenta, Undómiel," he said. [Until next we meet, Evenstar.] He bowed again, then walked away.
She watched him go, mildly impressed with his Elvish farewell. "A youth of many talents," she said thoughtfully.
"Indeed," Legolas said, "And dancing is not the least of them."
Arwen laughed. "Whyever did you decide to cut in?"
He ruefully grinned at her. "Aragorn is my pupil. I am instructing him."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Aragorn needs to learn that not everything in life comes with ease," he replied. "He Lord Elrond's foster-son, and he asked me to teach Aragorn a measure of control."
Arwen raised her eyebrows. "Archery I could understand, but *you* are teaching him control? You once tied Elladan to a tree because he threw a clump of mud at your head!"
Legolas shrugged. "That little scamp had hidden my bow and arrows, and when I *calmly* confronted him, he threw a clump of mud at me. I obviously could not let such disrespect pass."
"Oh, obviously," she echoed, shaking her head in disbelief.
"At any rate," he continued, changing the subject, "Lord Elrond asked me to give him tests at unexpected times. So far, he has passed with flying colors." He looked over at the Man with a hint of pride.
"And you are willing to sacrifice your pride to teach Aragorn such a difficult lesson?"
He nodded. "I owe Lord Elrond much. He taught me many things. When he asked me to do this, I immediately accepted." He grinned. "I did not think that it would involve me dancing with my pupil, though. I might have reconsidered."
Arwen laughed and impulsively kissed his cheek. "Come, Legolas. If you are recovered enough to dance with Aragorn, then spare some energy for me." She did not look up to see his reaction to her kiss. If she had, she would have seen a new light in his eyes and a soft, faint smile at the corners of his mouth.
A/N: There! Whew! *wipes perspiration off of forehead* That should be enough to make sure that no one comes after me for awhile. If you have any suggestions on where to take this, let me know. I haven't completely mapped this out, and any help would be *much* appreciated.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
600 years previously, in Rivendell …
The feast celebrating the autumn harvest had ended hours before, and Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, had called for his minstrels to come forth. Dancing and merriment commenced, and amidst all the whirl and gaiety of the dances was Arwen Undómiel, clad in a dress that reminded Legolas of the twilight – it was purple in one light, gray in another, reddish-gold in still another. She wore garland of autumn berries in her hair, and in the light of the candles she shone like the Evenstar that was her namesake. Legolas watched her weave her way through the complicated Elvish dance, fascinated by the change in the companion of his youth. The last time he had seen Arwen, she was riding like the wind on her father's prize stallion and wearing a pair of breeches stolen from one of her brothers.
He smiled to himself and took a drink of Elvish wine as he tried to reconcile the new knowledge that the hellion that he had known was grown into a vivacious being of grace and beauty. She was but newly returned from Lórien, where she had been staying with her mother's kin. At least, that was what Elrond had told Legolas one day when Arwen did not come to the noon meal.
He had been been crushed. Arwen had been his constant companion, and could ride a horse or use a bow almost as well as he. He had private suspicions that Elrond had deliberately separated them, but his studies soon grew more difficult, absorbing more of his attention, and he had less time to think about her. She never totally disappeared from his mind, however, and a flood of strange new emotions swirled through him as he gazed upon her, flushed and laughing with the exertions of the dance.
The music concluded with a grand flourish, and the dancers scattered to find refreshment. Legolas's heart gave an odd leap as he saw Arwen threading her way through the crowd towards him. He watched her expectantly, and their eyes met. For a moment, her face remained blank. After a split second, though, her eyes lit up in recognition. "Legolas!" she exclaimed, smiling with delight. "How splendid!"
Legolas bowed deeply. "Mae govannen, Undómiel," he said. [Well met, Evenstar.]
She grinned at him. "Well, I am at least relieved to know that you have learned some manners in our years apart."
He looked at her with a mock-wounded expression. "I have learned many things during our separation."
Arwen gazed out on the dance floor and gave him a mischievous glance. "Have you learned to dance?" she asked innocently.
He grinned as he held out his hand. "You can only find out one way."
She took his hand, but said archly, "That is not precisely true. I could just evaluate your performance from the safety of the sidelines."
He grinned. "I see that for all the careful instruction you received in Lórien, you did not learn to curb your tongue."
She raised her eyebrows. "I see that my father did not teach you any repartee along with his archery instructions."
"I am but a rustic elf from the Mirkwood, lady," he said humbly bowing, but his eyes twinkling with mischief.
She raised her eyebrows. "Indeed," she said coolly. "We shall see."
He shrugged noncommittally and led her out onto the dance floor. They listened for a moment to the opening bars of the song, and Arwen's eyes sparkled as she recognized it. It was a dance that combined the flowing grace of a waltz with the speed and elaborateness of a swing dance.
They began the dance at the normal pace, but Arwen's natural high spirits and her wish to outstrip Legolas led to the pair doing the steps twice as fast as the other couples. They whirled around the floor, heedless of the disbelieving stares from the other Elves. After a few minutes, though, the accelerated pace was taking its toll. Arwen felt that she was wearing too many layers, and Legolas was silently cursing the fact that his dressy ensemble included no less than three tunics. His uncomfortable state was forgotten when they passed under a torch, and he noticed Arwen's flushed countenance in the light.
"Would you like to slow down?" he asked mischievously. "Your cheeks seem a bit rosier than is usual."
Arwen's eyes widened as she feined innocence. "I do not know what you mean, Legolas. I could dance like this for hours." She looked pointedly at his forehead. "I think that you should sit down, however. I think I see a fine sheen of perspiration on your noble alabaster brow. We should not risk the health of a Prince of the Mirkwood."
Legolas could contain himself no longer. He threw back his head and laughed as he pulled her out of the dance and over to the nearest empty bench. "You win," he said. "You are the better dancer. I need to rest for a bit."
She shook her head as she slumped against the wall. "Nay, Legolas. I was just about ready to collapse as well. It is a draw."
"We were always evenly matched," he said quietly.
Arwen felt her heart constrict painfully as she watched the candlelight glint in his hair and make his skin look like burnished gold.
He looked at her, his eyes unfathomable in the soft light. "I am glad you are back, Undómiel," he said quietly.
For the first time in her life, she was speechless. She felt pinned under his gaze. It was not unpleasant, but there was no telling what might happen. She was not out of control, but she felt like she could be at any second. His eyes seemed to be drawing her out of herself. Then there came a moment when the music and chatter seemed to die away, and it was just them sitting on a bench bathed in golden candlelight. Time was slowing and bearing down on them. They drew closer to each other, and he opened his mouth to speak when a young and rather delicate looking elf maid hesitantly stood before him and asked for the next dance.
The delicate moment shattered. Legolas jerked away as if slapped. Arwen took a deep breath, trying to gain a measure of control.
He glanced at Arwen a split second before he smiled warmly at the girl and led her out onto the floor.
She leaned back against the wall and tried to sort out her roiling emotions as she watched them for awhile. Legolas never even looked over in her direction once. She sighed in frustration. What was the matter with her? She did not *need* Legolas's attention. Did she? Shaking off that dangerous question, she decided that maybe dancing would be the thing to take her mind off of her problems.
Scanning the room, she noticed a handsome youth with shoulder length black hair and gray eyes standing in a quiet corner, watching the revelry with a slightly melancholy air. A slight smile curled her mouth as she recognized the youth as Aragorn, whom she had met earlier in the day. It had been an odd meeting – he had been singing the lay of Beren and Lúthien when they ran into each other. And he had called her Tinúviel, just as Beren had called Lúthien in the song. They talked for a bit – he introduced himself, and told her with pride that he was Lord of the Dúnedain. He was so young, but there was something about him that intrigued her.
Forcibly putting Legolas out of her mind for the time being, she walked over to Aragorn. Pity welled up in her heart as she saw his uncomfortably forced air of nonchalance. He looked terribly out of his depth at a party full of lively Elves.
"Greetings, Aragorn," she said kindly as she sat down on the bench next to him. His double take was almost comical. His eyes were wide with shock as he exclaimed, "Tinúviel!"
"Have you forgotten our meeting so soon?" she teased. "I am Arwen, remember? Be careful of the names you give to people. You have not yet heard me sing," she added, laughing. [A/N: For those of you who don't know, "Tinúviel" means "nightingale".]
The boy blushed and looked away. "I could not easily forget our meeting," he said under his breath.
Arwen heard his words, but chose to ignore them. "Would you care to dance?" she asked lightly, standing up.
Aragorn flew to his feet, face alight with glee. "Of course," he said. He eagerly thrust out his elbow, and Arwen took it.
She was expecting an awkward dance, and was pleasantly surprised that the young Man moved with an almost Elvish grace. He was also an interesting conversationalist, witty but with an intriguing hint of sorrow in the depths of his sea-gray eyes. He was telling her of his youth in Rivendell when his eyes slightly narrowed at something over her shoulder. She turned to see what he was scowling at.
"May I cut in?" Legolas asked smoothly.
"What are you *doing*?" she asked in an angry whisper. It was highly unusual to cut in. Almost rude, even. And Aragorn was a young Man. She did not know what he would do.
Legolas merely stood there and waited, looking at him.
Aragorn was tense and silent as he thoughtfully looked back at Legolas. Gray eyes met blue in a silent test, and just when Arwen felt she could not take another second of the odd tension, Aragorn suddenly raised his eyebrows and grinned as he said, "Of course you may, but I do not know how the lady will feel about it."
Legolas and Arwen both looked at him with puzzled expressions. Playfully shrugging, Aragorn released Arwen and took hold of Legolas and began to lead him through the dance. The tension eased, and several Elves around them began laughing heartily, and a few shouted for Legolas to make his hips sway more, or to throw his chest out a little bit.
Legolas took the ribbing with good nature, but Arwen saw that the tips of his ears were flushed a delicate pink with embarrassment.
After the dance ended, Aragorn led Legolas back to Arwen. "Lady, I thank you for your kindness in allowing me to dance with your graceful partner," he said, mischief dancing in his eyes.
Arwen tried to smother a grin as she inclined her head and replied, "It was a joy to see such a skillful and well-matched pair."
Legolas raised his eyebrow, but said nothing.
Aragorn chuckled. "Tenna' ento lye omenta, Undómiel," he said. [Until next we meet, Evenstar.] He bowed again, then walked away.
She watched him go, mildly impressed with his Elvish farewell. "A youth of many talents," she said thoughtfully.
"Indeed," Legolas said, "And dancing is not the least of them."
Arwen laughed. "Whyever did you decide to cut in?"
He ruefully grinned at her. "Aragorn is my pupil. I am instructing him."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Aragorn needs to learn that not everything in life comes with ease," he replied. "He Lord Elrond's foster-son, and he asked me to teach Aragorn a measure of control."
Arwen raised her eyebrows. "Archery I could understand, but *you* are teaching him control? You once tied Elladan to a tree because he threw a clump of mud at your head!"
Legolas shrugged. "That little scamp had hidden my bow and arrows, and when I *calmly* confronted him, he threw a clump of mud at me. I obviously could not let such disrespect pass."
"Oh, obviously," she echoed, shaking her head in disbelief.
"At any rate," he continued, changing the subject, "Lord Elrond asked me to give him tests at unexpected times. So far, he has passed with flying colors." He looked over at the Man with a hint of pride.
"And you are willing to sacrifice your pride to teach Aragorn such a difficult lesson?"
He nodded. "I owe Lord Elrond much. He taught me many things. When he asked me to do this, I immediately accepted." He grinned. "I did not think that it would involve me dancing with my pupil, though. I might have reconsidered."
Arwen laughed and impulsively kissed his cheek. "Come, Legolas. If you are recovered enough to dance with Aragorn, then spare some energy for me." She did not look up to see his reaction to her kiss. If she had, she would have seen a new light in his eyes and a soft, faint smile at the corners of his mouth.
A/N: There! Whew! *wipes perspiration off of forehead* That should be enough to make sure that no one comes after me for awhile. If you have any suggestions on where to take this, let me know. I haven't completely mapped this out, and any help would be *much* appreciated.