A/N: Okay, I *promise* that this is going to be the last part of the
flashback. I realize that this fic was originally supposed to beef up "The
Tale of Arwen and Aragorn" in Appendix A, and it will, in the next chapter.
Guess I got a little carried away. You've all been pretty patient, though.
And as I'm sure you all know, I don't own anyone. Wouldn't that be slavery?
Although the thought of a tall handsome Elf waiting on me hand and foot has
its appeal …
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Elrond was in his library, several piles of yellowed manuscripts spread before him on the table. Sunlight poured in the closed windows that had been shut to prevent any stray breezes from disturbing the precariously stacked mounds of paper. He sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned back in his chair and let the sunlight wash over him. Going through Rivendell's massive library of lore was a thankless, wearying task. He had to do it, though. Ever since the White Council had met, he had felt vaguely uneasy about the advice Saruman the White had given concerning the One Ring. Saruman had advised the White Council not to look for it, because it was beyond anyone's reach, even Sauron's. After the Council, Elrond had voiced his misgivings to Gandalf, and the pair decided to do a little research on the side. The next morning, Gandalf rode off to Minas Tirith, and Elrond imposed a self-exile in his library, coming out but rarely and only for short periods of time. He knew the chances of him finding any information were small, but it had to be done.
Muscles in his neck and shoulders, tense and achy from the stooped position of peering over manuscripts, began to relax, and he drifted off into a light doze.
He had been asleep only a few minutes when a door opened and a breeze whooshed in, scattering the piles of paper. Elrond did not open his eyes, perhaps out of fear of what he would see. A faint smile did pass across his features when he heard whispered curses over the crinkling of paper.
Without opening his eyes, Elrond said, "Only Elladan or Arwen would be foolish enough to ignore a "Keep Out" sign written in large letters and clearly posted on a closed door."
"It is neither, Lord Elrond," Legolas said nervously.
Elrond opened his eyes in surprise and sat up. "Legolas? What is the matter? Is Arwen all right?"
"Yes, of course!" Legolas said. "But – er – I did want to talk to you about her. Sir," he added uncomfortably.
Elrond gazed around the room. Papers were scattered everywhere. Legolas snatched a couple that were floating lazily down to the floor and put them in front of Elrond.
"Thank you," Elrond said wryly. Those two documents were the only ones on the entire table.
"I am terribly sorry, sir," Legolas said.
Elrond shrugged and looked up at the younger Elf, humor glinting in his eyes. "What was so important about Arwen that made you unable to read a simple sign, Legolas?"
Legolas stood before him, mute with nervousness. He was not expecting Elrond to get to the point quite so quickly. Of course, he was not expecting to destroy Elrond's library, either … "Maybe I should just clean up and come back later," he said.
"Say it, Ascarer," Elrond commanded. [Impetuous one].
Legolas took a deep breath and looked squarely at Elrond. "I am in love with your daughter, and I wish to marry her," he said in a rush.
Elrond leaned back in his chair and gazed meditatively at him. "Have a seat, Legolas," he said, indicating a chair in front of the table.
Legolas seated himself, and said, "I realize that this is rather unexpected …"
"Indeed," Elrond interjected wryly.
" …but I believe that I could make her happy, and I am convinced that she is the only one who could make me so," he finished. He waited, his back ramrod-straight with tension, while Elrond gazed at him, saying nothing.
Finally, he asked, "Legolas, do you know the tale of Beren and Lúthien?"
Legolas nodded. "Of course. You taught it to me yourself."
"Then you are aware that Arwen is one of their few remaining descendents?"
"Yes," Legolas replied. "What does that have to do with me?"
"It has everything to do with you," Elrond said quietly. "You assume that all of Beren and Lúthien's descendents were of Elvish blood, do you not?"
Legolas nodded, impatient to find out what Elrond's point was.
"That is untrue. There is one Man left who can claim descent."
The answer came to Legolas with a shock. "Aragorn …" he whispered.
"Yes," Elrond said. "It is curious that one of the two manuscripts you handed to me was a family tree outlining the descendents of Beren and Lúthien." He pushed the paper to the edge of the table so Legolas could see for himself, but the younger Elf refused to look.
"So they are fated for each other?" he asked bitterly, eyes fixed on Elrond.
"They are," Elrond said wearily.
"I do not believe in fate," Legolas declared.
Elrond sighed. "Nevertheless, it is there, and inexorable as Time."
"But … Arwen does not love Aragorn!" he exclaimed. "Marriages of convenience are so barbaric!"
"It will not be a marriage of convenience, foolish boy. Aragorn is much too young. But you are one of his tutors. Surely you have noticed that he has a way about him. It is merely a matter of time, I think."
Legolas sighed. "I still think it barbaric." A new, even more horrifying though burst into his mind. "Lord Elrond, if Arwen does marry Aragorn, she will have to give up her immortality!"
Elrond nodded. "Yes, Legolas, I am aware of that."
"But she will die! How can you condone that?" he asked hotly.
Elrond's fist slammed down upon the table. "I condone it because I must! Have you heard nothing I have said, Legolas? Arwen and Aragorn will fall in love, and will marry, and my daughter will give up her immortality. There is nothing you or I can do about it but to accept it."
"But I love her!" he exclaimed, frustrated.
"As do I," Elrond said quietly, his fit of temper gone. "And that is why you will not tell Arwen of your love for her."
Legolas shook his head stubbornly.
"You will not," Elrond repeated. "Legolas, the time of Elves is waning, and the dominion of Men is upon is. There are many loose ends to tie up, and Arwen and Aragorn are but two of the smaller strands."
"And so my love for Undómiel must end? Just like that?" he asked indignantly.
"It would be best if it would do so, but knowing you as well as I do, it will not." Seeing Legolas's mutinous look, he added, "Do not defy what you do not fully understand, Legolas. Though Arwen and Aragorn's relationship is but a small matter, it is still a crucial one for the times ahead, one that has its beginnings in the deeps of time."
Legolas sat in moody thought for a few minutes before asking, "And what do I tell Arwen? I am fairly sure that she knows something of my feelings."
"She must know it for nothing more than an infatuation," Elrond said gently.
Legolas flinched and bowed his head. "You ask much, Lord Elrond," he whispered.
"Not any more than I ask of myself," Elrond said heavily.
Legolas could not stay seated any longer. He flew to his feet and looked down at Elrond. "My lord, I must leave. I will do as you ask, but I must go. I will go back to Mirkwood."
Elrond nodded. "That would be best, I think."
"I will leave tomorrow," he said. After sketching a quick bow, he turned on his heel and left.
Elrond watched him go, and after Legolas had shut the door, he buried his face in his hands.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
After dinner, Legolas went directly up to his room and began packing. The setting sun cast reddish-gold beams across his bags, reminding him that it was the time when he usually went out riding with Arwen. He hardened his heart and viciously stuffed another tunic in the bag. He had decided that he would not say good-bye to her, but just quietly leave before she rose in the morning. Arwen, however, had other ideas.
"Packing for a journey, are you?" she asked from the doorway.
Legolas jumped. "For the love of Elbereth, Arwen, don't *do* that!" he said.
Arwen shrugged. "Where are you going in such secrecy?"
"Mirkwood," he replied. He turned his back to her and resumed packing, hoping the rude gesture would anger her just enough so that she would leave.
It had the unfortunate effect of making Arwen think that there was trouble at home, however, for she asked with a hint of worry in her voice, "Is your father well?"
Legolas stopped pretending to pack and realized with a sinking heart that Arwen was not going to make this easy on him. He turned to her, willing his face to be blank, and said in what he hoped was a bored voice, "Oh, yes, my father is perfectly fine. I just grow tired of my sojourn here. There is nothing interesting enough to really keep me here, anyway." He shrugged his shoulders for effect.
His ploy worked. Arwen's eyes flashed dangerously. "Oh, really? And I was not "interesting enough" to be privy to this information? Were you planning on leaving without telling me?"
"I suppose so," he said flatly, struggling to keep his roiling emotions in check. When she made an indignant sound in her throat, he added, "I did not think that it was such a thing of great importance, Arwen. I only go out for a ride with you once a day. I thought of you as a riding companion, nothing more."
With each lie, Arwen's face became a shade paler. By the time he was finished speaking, she was swaying unsteadily on her feet. Before he thought, Legolas reached out and grabbed her elbow to steady her. With a growl, she pushed away his hand and gazed up at him with burning eyes. The color abruptly rushed back to her cheeks as she said, "Do not presume to touch me, Master Legolas!"
He held his hands up in a gesture of peace, and forced himself to say the cruelest thing he could think of. "I am not the one with the problem of presumption, Undómiel. You are in my bedroom, on the eve of my departure, as if you had some sort of claim on me."
Arwen's hands clenched involuntarily, and Legolas wondered if she would strike him. He knew he deserved it, and part of him wanted her to hit him. He deserved it for the horrible hurtful and untruthful things he had to say. He closed his eyes and waited for the blow, but none came. He opened his eyes to see Arwen was just standing there, gazing at him with a heart- rending look of anguish and hurt in her eyes. He noticed that tears were welling up, liquid gold in the light of the setting sun. He knew that pride would keep the tears from falling, though. After a few moments, she said, "But I thought that you … and I …" she trailed off, unable to say more.
She is giving me one last chance to explain myself, he thought. For a moment, the temptation to gather her into his embrace and explain everything was almost overwhelming. Instead, he raised his eyebrows and said, "You? And me?" He laughed a bit. "I'm sorry if you got that impression, Arwen," he added in what he hoped was a careless tone, "but I cannot be tied down right now."
Arwen's eyes widened. "Tied down?" she echoed hollowly.
He shrugged. "Yes," he said.
"In that case, I am *terribly* sorry for the trouble I have been, and I'll leave you to your packing," she spat out, eyes snapping with fury, her color high. Legolas had never seen her look more beautiful. Before he could respond, she whirled around and fled to her chambers. In the quiet sanctuary of her room, she finally allowed the tears to flow as she spent a sleepless night wondering why she had left caution behind and allowed her heart to be so vulnerable. "Never again," she whispered. "Never again."
*~*~*~*~*~*
After Arwen left, Legolas sat down heavily in a chair by the window and stared out, replaying horrible encounter with Arwen over and over in head. He had never felt worse about anything he had ever done in his life before. It had felt so wrong, like a betrayal, but Elrond had asked it of him. But what if Elrond was wrong? Perhaps he needlessly ruined two lives over a mere speculation. He hung his head and allowed the waves of self-loathing and anguish to wash over him. He knew that he would never love anyone else, but he knew just as surely that Arwen would come to love Aragorn. Would it be the same love as she had for him, Legolas? For a jealous moment he hated Aragorn, but then realized that he had just about as much choice as Arwen in the matter. He sighed and pondered the possibility of fate.
Some time later, he raised his head and looked out the window at the newly- risen moon, his dark eyes dry but unspeakably bitter. "Never again," he vowed.
*~*~*~*~*~*
He left a few hours later, before the household staff was awake. Arwen heard his horse whinny quietly on the pavilion, and despite herself, she went to the window to look. He was astride his horse and looking up at her window. Their eyes met, and she thought she saw one side of his mouth curl in a small sad understanding smile just before he wheeled his horse around and rode off into the forest.
She took a deep breath and went in search of her father. There was a soft glow coming from the crack under the library door, and, ignoring the "Keep Out" sign, she opened the door and entered. No mischievous wind followed her in, however. Elrond's papers remained undisturbed. She saw him poring over a book, a lamp throwing a meager glow over the print. He looked up, and smiled sadly when he saw her. "Greetings, daughter," he said.
"Father, do you have a moment?" she asked desperately.
Elrond put the book down on the table and asked, "Need you even ask?"
Arwen sat down in the same chair that Legolas had occupied not 12 hours before. "Father, Legolas has gone back to Mirkwood," she said flatly.
Elrond looked at his daughter closely. She was unusually pale, and her eyes were red as if she had only recently stopped crying, but she was calm and composed as she faced him. "Yes, I know," he said finally.
Arwen's jaw tightened, but she remained calm as she said, "Has he been pondering this decision for awhile?"
Valar forgive me for my lies, Elrond thought. Outwardly, he remained calm as he said, "I believe that he mentioned the plan to me a week or so ago."
"Father, I …" she trailed off and looked at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap.
"Arwen, do you care for Legolas?" he asked gently.
Arwen's eyes flew up to meet his. She laughed harshly as she replied, "I did, or rather, I thought I did, but it is quite obvious that it was not reciprocal."
"Undómiel, time will heal this infatuation …" he began.
"*Don't* call it that!" she demanded, eyes blazing. "It was *not* a mere infatuation!"
"It must have been, at least on Legolas's part," Elrond said calmly.
Arwen flew to her feet and began pacing around the library. Finally, she said, "Father, I must leave."
"Where will you go, my daughter?" She and Legolas are so alike, he thought with a pang. Valar help me if I am making a horrible mistake.
"Lórien," she replied. "And as soon as possible."
Elrond nodded. "It shall be as you ask. Prepare your bags, and I will send Aragorn as an escort."
Arwen nodded her agreement and departed to prepare for her journey.
"And so it begins," Elrond sighed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
And so it happened that Arwen returned back to Lórien, escorted by Aragorn son of Arathorn. The tale of their love is told elsewhere, how it grew slowly and finally came to fruition after much toil and struggle.
A/N: And there the flashback ends. Whew! I tried to explain why Arwen was so quiet and aloof in the books, and this is one of the more outlandish explanations. Anyway … Next, we will return to the present day, where Arwen and Legolas have to again decide if they want to be together until the End of Days. Stay tuned, and *please*, R/R!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Elrond was in his library, several piles of yellowed manuscripts spread before him on the table. Sunlight poured in the closed windows that had been shut to prevent any stray breezes from disturbing the precariously stacked mounds of paper. He sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned back in his chair and let the sunlight wash over him. Going through Rivendell's massive library of lore was a thankless, wearying task. He had to do it, though. Ever since the White Council had met, he had felt vaguely uneasy about the advice Saruman the White had given concerning the One Ring. Saruman had advised the White Council not to look for it, because it was beyond anyone's reach, even Sauron's. After the Council, Elrond had voiced his misgivings to Gandalf, and the pair decided to do a little research on the side. The next morning, Gandalf rode off to Minas Tirith, and Elrond imposed a self-exile in his library, coming out but rarely and only for short periods of time. He knew the chances of him finding any information were small, but it had to be done.
Muscles in his neck and shoulders, tense and achy from the stooped position of peering over manuscripts, began to relax, and he drifted off into a light doze.
He had been asleep only a few minutes when a door opened and a breeze whooshed in, scattering the piles of paper. Elrond did not open his eyes, perhaps out of fear of what he would see. A faint smile did pass across his features when he heard whispered curses over the crinkling of paper.
Without opening his eyes, Elrond said, "Only Elladan or Arwen would be foolish enough to ignore a "Keep Out" sign written in large letters and clearly posted on a closed door."
"It is neither, Lord Elrond," Legolas said nervously.
Elrond opened his eyes in surprise and sat up. "Legolas? What is the matter? Is Arwen all right?"
"Yes, of course!" Legolas said. "But – er – I did want to talk to you about her. Sir," he added uncomfortably.
Elrond gazed around the room. Papers were scattered everywhere. Legolas snatched a couple that were floating lazily down to the floor and put them in front of Elrond.
"Thank you," Elrond said wryly. Those two documents were the only ones on the entire table.
"I am terribly sorry, sir," Legolas said.
Elrond shrugged and looked up at the younger Elf, humor glinting in his eyes. "What was so important about Arwen that made you unable to read a simple sign, Legolas?"
Legolas stood before him, mute with nervousness. He was not expecting Elrond to get to the point quite so quickly. Of course, he was not expecting to destroy Elrond's library, either … "Maybe I should just clean up and come back later," he said.
"Say it, Ascarer," Elrond commanded. [Impetuous one].
Legolas took a deep breath and looked squarely at Elrond. "I am in love with your daughter, and I wish to marry her," he said in a rush.
Elrond leaned back in his chair and gazed meditatively at him. "Have a seat, Legolas," he said, indicating a chair in front of the table.
Legolas seated himself, and said, "I realize that this is rather unexpected …"
"Indeed," Elrond interjected wryly.
" …but I believe that I could make her happy, and I am convinced that she is the only one who could make me so," he finished. He waited, his back ramrod-straight with tension, while Elrond gazed at him, saying nothing.
Finally, he asked, "Legolas, do you know the tale of Beren and Lúthien?"
Legolas nodded. "Of course. You taught it to me yourself."
"Then you are aware that Arwen is one of their few remaining descendents?"
"Yes," Legolas replied. "What does that have to do with me?"
"It has everything to do with you," Elrond said quietly. "You assume that all of Beren and Lúthien's descendents were of Elvish blood, do you not?"
Legolas nodded, impatient to find out what Elrond's point was.
"That is untrue. There is one Man left who can claim descent."
The answer came to Legolas with a shock. "Aragorn …" he whispered.
"Yes," Elrond said. "It is curious that one of the two manuscripts you handed to me was a family tree outlining the descendents of Beren and Lúthien." He pushed the paper to the edge of the table so Legolas could see for himself, but the younger Elf refused to look.
"So they are fated for each other?" he asked bitterly, eyes fixed on Elrond.
"They are," Elrond said wearily.
"I do not believe in fate," Legolas declared.
Elrond sighed. "Nevertheless, it is there, and inexorable as Time."
"But … Arwen does not love Aragorn!" he exclaimed. "Marriages of convenience are so barbaric!"
"It will not be a marriage of convenience, foolish boy. Aragorn is much too young. But you are one of his tutors. Surely you have noticed that he has a way about him. It is merely a matter of time, I think."
Legolas sighed. "I still think it barbaric." A new, even more horrifying though burst into his mind. "Lord Elrond, if Arwen does marry Aragorn, she will have to give up her immortality!"
Elrond nodded. "Yes, Legolas, I am aware of that."
"But she will die! How can you condone that?" he asked hotly.
Elrond's fist slammed down upon the table. "I condone it because I must! Have you heard nothing I have said, Legolas? Arwen and Aragorn will fall in love, and will marry, and my daughter will give up her immortality. There is nothing you or I can do about it but to accept it."
"But I love her!" he exclaimed, frustrated.
"As do I," Elrond said quietly, his fit of temper gone. "And that is why you will not tell Arwen of your love for her."
Legolas shook his head stubbornly.
"You will not," Elrond repeated. "Legolas, the time of Elves is waning, and the dominion of Men is upon is. There are many loose ends to tie up, and Arwen and Aragorn are but two of the smaller strands."
"And so my love for Undómiel must end? Just like that?" he asked indignantly.
"It would be best if it would do so, but knowing you as well as I do, it will not." Seeing Legolas's mutinous look, he added, "Do not defy what you do not fully understand, Legolas. Though Arwen and Aragorn's relationship is but a small matter, it is still a crucial one for the times ahead, one that has its beginnings in the deeps of time."
Legolas sat in moody thought for a few minutes before asking, "And what do I tell Arwen? I am fairly sure that she knows something of my feelings."
"She must know it for nothing more than an infatuation," Elrond said gently.
Legolas flinched and bowed his head. "You ask much, Lord Elrond," he whispered.
"Not any more than I ask of myself," Elrond said heavily.
Legolas could not stay seated any longer. He flew to his feet and looked down at Elrond. "My lord, I must leave. I will do as you ask, but I must go. I will go back to Mirkwood."
Elrond nodded. "That would be best, I think."
"I will leave tomorrow," he said. After sketching a quick bow, he turned on his heel and left.
Elrond watched him go, and after Legolas had shut the door, he buried his face in his hands.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
After dinner, Legolas went directly up to his room and began packing. The setting sun cast reddish-gold beams across his bags, reminding him that it was the time when he usually went out riding with Arwen. He hardened his heart and viciously stuffed another tunic in the bag. He had decided that he would not say good-bye to her, but just quietly leave before she rose in the morning. Arwen, however, had other ideas.
"Packing for a journey, are you?" she asked from the doorway.
Legolas jumped. "For the love of Elbereth, Arwen, don't *do* that!" he said.
Arwen shrugged. "Where are you going in such secrecy?"
"Mirkwood," he replied. He turned his back to her and resumed packing, hoping the rude gesture would anger her just enough so that she would leave.
It had the unfortunate effect of making Arwen think that there was trouble at home, however, for she asked with a hint of worry in her voice, "Is your father well?"
Legolas stopped pretending to pack and realized with a sinking heart that Arwen was not going to make this easy on him. He turned to her, willing his face to be blank, and said in what he hoped was a bored voice, "Oh, yes, my father is perfectly fine. I just grow tired of my sojourn here. There is nothing interesting enough to really keep me here, anyway." He shrugged his shoulders for effect.
His ploy worked. Arwen's eyes flashed dangerously. "Oh, really? And I was not "interesting enough" to be privy to this information? Were you planning on leaving without telling me?"
"I suppose so," he said flatly, struggling to keep his roiling emotions in check. When she made an indignant sound in her throat, he added, "I did not think that it was such a thing of great importance, Arwen. I only go out for a ride with you once a day. I thought of you as a riding companion, nothing more."
With each lie, Arwen's face became a shade paler. By the time he was finished speaking, she was swaying unsteadily on her feet. Before he thought, Legolas reached out and grabbed her elbow to steady her. With a growl, she pushed away his hand and gazed up at him with burning eyes. The color abruptly rushed back to her cheeks as she said, "Do not presume to touch me, Master Legolas!"
He held his hands up in a gesture of peace, and forced himself to say the cruelest thing he could think of. "I am not the one with the problem of presumption, Undómiel. You are in my bedroom, on the eve of my departure, as if you had some sort of claim on me."
Arwen's hands clenched involuntarily, and Legolas wondered if she would strike him. He knew he deserved it, and part of him wanted her to hit him. He deserved it for the horrible hurtful and untruthful things he had to say. He closed his eyes and waited for the blow, but none came. He opened his eyes to see Arwen was just standing there, gazing at him with a heart- rending look of anguish and hurt in her eyes. He noticed that tears were welling up, liquid gold in the light of the setting sun. He knew that pride would keep the tears from falling, though. After a few moments, she said, "But I thought that you … and I …" she trailed off, unable to say more.
She is giving me one last chance to explain myself, he thought. For a moment, the temptation to gather her into his embrace and explain everything was almost overwhelming. Instead, he raised his eyebrows and said, "You? And me?" He laughed a bit. "I'm sorry if you got that impression, Arwen," he added in what he hoped was a careless tone, "but I cannot be tied down right now."
Arwen's eyes widened. "Tied down?" she echoed hollowly.
He shrugged. "Yes," he said.
"In that case, I am *terribly* sorry for the trouble I have been, and I'll leave you to your packing," she spat out, eyes snapping with fury, her color high. Legolas had never seen her look more beautiful. Before he could respond, she whirled around and fled to her chambers. In the quiet sanctuary of her room, she finally allowed the tears to flow as she spent a sleepless night wondering why she had left caution behind and allowed her heart to be so vulnerable. "Never again," she whispered. "Never again."
*~*~*~*~*~*
After Arwen left, Legolas sat down heavily in a chair by the window and stared out, replaying horrible encounter with Arwen over and over in head. He had never felt worse about anything he had ever done in his life before. It had felt so wrong, like a betrayal, but Elrond had asked it of him. But what if Elrond was wrong? Perhaps he needlessly ruined two lives over a mere speculation. He hung his head and allowed the waves of self-loathing and anguish to wash over him. He knew that he would never love anyone else, but he knew just as surely that Arwen would come to love Aragorn. Would it be the same love as she had for him, Legolas? For a jealous moment he hated Aragorn, but then realized that he had just about as much choice as Arwen in the matter. He sighed and pondered the possibility of fate.
Some time later, he raised his head and looked out the window at the newly- risen moon, his dark eyes dry but unspeakably bitter. "Never again," he vowed.
*~*~*~*~*~*
He left a few hours later, before the household staff was awake. Arwen heard his horse whinny quietly on the pavilion, and despite herself, she went to the window to look. He was astride his horse and looking up at her window. Their eyes met, and she thought she saw one side of his mouth curl in a small sad understanding smile just before he wheeled his horse around and rode off into the forest.
She took a deep breath and went in search of her father. There was a soft glow coming from the crack under the library door, and, ignoring the "Keep Out" sign, she opened the door and entered. No mischievous wind followed her in, however. Elrond's papers remained undisturbed. She saw him poring over a book, a lamp throwing a meager glow over the print. He looked up, and smiled sadly when he saw her. "Greetings, daughter," he said.
"Father, do you have a moment?" she asked desperately.
Elrond put the book down on the table and asked, "Need you even ask?"
Arwen sat down in the same chair that Legolas had occupied not 12 hours before. "Father, Legolas has gone back to Mirkwood," she said flatly.
Elrond looked at his daughter closely. She was unusually pale, and her eyes were red as if she had only recently stopped crying, but she was calm and composed as she faced him. "Yes, I know," he said finally.
Arwen's jaw tightened, but she remained calm as she said, "Has he been pondering this decision for awhile?"
Valar forgive me for my lies, Elrond thought. Outwardly, he remained calm as he said, "I believe that he mentioned the plan to me a week or so ago."
"Father, I …" she trailed off and looked at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap.
"Arwen, do you care for Legolas?" he asked gently.
Arwen's eyes flew up to meet his. She laughed harshly as she replied, "I did, or rather, I thought I did, but it is quite obvious that it was not reciprocal."
"Undómiel, time will heal this infatuation …" he began.
"*Don't* call it that!" she demanded, eyes blazing. "It was *not* a mere infatuation!"
"It must have been, at least on Legolas's part," Elrond said calmly.
Arwen flew to her feet and began pacing around the library. Finally, she said, "Father, I must leave."
"Where will you go, my daughter?" She and Legolas are so alike, he thought with a pang. Valar help me if I am making a horrible mistake.
"Lórien," she replied. "And as soon as possible."
Elrond nodded. "It shall be as you ask. Prepare your bags, and I will send Aragorn as an escort."
Arwen nodded her agreement and departed to prepare for her journey.
"And so it begins," Elrond sighed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
And so it happened that Arwen returned back to Lórien, escorted by Aragorn son of Arathorn. The tale of their love is told elsewhere, how it grew slowly and finally came to fruition after much toil and struggle.
A/N: And there the flashback ends. Whew! I tried to explain why Arwen was so quiet and aloof in the books, and this is one of the more outlandish explanations. Anyway … Next, we will return to the present day, where Arwen and Legolas have to again decide if they want to be together until the End of Days. Stay tuned, and *please*, R/R!