It seems that some reviewers are anxious to see some slash action already. I would just like to stress that while this is a slash fic, it is not just a slash fic. While there will be scenes between Aragorn and Legolas, there will also (I hope) be a plot, and character development, and a reason for their scenes. I also know I am rather long-winded with my writing, and I appreciate each and every reader and each and every review. Honestly, you guys are the only reason I'm still writing this. Thank you for bearing with me while I get towards the good bits. I've found that, apart from the most rudimentary structure, too much planning ruins the flow of my writing. And usually the most surprising (and I think, the best) parts just come unexpectedly. Having said that, I do have a very clear idea of where I'm going, and I promise that the good bits will be here soon!

~~*~~

Remember Tonight

I am not nervous.

Shaken, shocked, hurt, betrayed, numb, over-whelmed – so, hopelessly, over-whelmed, but not nervous.

Oh, who am I trying to fool?

Legolas clung to calmness by the barest hairsbreadth, and Berethin was not helping.

'…proud. She will settle for nothing less than your complete devotion, but give her your heart and she will freeze it until she has need for it in the future…or until she runs out of fresh meat!'

'Berethin,' said Legolas weakly.

'I think the Lord Machlen is marrying her off as much to be rid of her as to form an alliance with your father. Valar, but she is a cold, calculating ice maid!'

'Berethin,' said Legolas, going even paler, if that was possible.

'If you cross her, you'd better hire the services of all your father's archers, and the Lorien warriors, and perhaps those human Rangers, as well, just to keep her knife from your back. Or on second thought, you might just send for Mithrandir, and have him read your last rights, for I do not think that even – '

'Out,' said Elian quietly. Her hands did not pause in the fitting of Legolas' tunic. 'If you will not help, at least you shall not hinder.'

Berethin opened his mouth to protest, but Elian's unblinking gaze stopped him. He turned to leave, but his younger cousin caught his hand. The iciness of Legolas' hand shocked him, and Berethin squeezed it on impulse.

'It will turn out for the best,' he murmured.

He could tell Legolas did not believe it.

He did not believe his own words, either.

~~*~~

It was dusk. The inn was large; it had been built for better days. A score of people graced the common room and another handful occupied small rooms upstairs, but it was still far from full.

In his room, Aragorn heated the last kettle of water, and poured it into the basin. Steam curled in the air as he stripped off his clothes, letting them fall into an untidy pile on the bed. He washed quickly and efficiently, scrubbing away the sweat and grime of the day.

Elladan and Elrohir had insisted that they refresh before they attended the ball. They had ridden unerringly to the inn, and greeted the innkeeper by name.

At Aragorn's look of surprise, Elrohir had raised his brow. 'We know many things…'

'…which you do not,' finished Elladan, looking equally smug.

They had vanished into the bathing room soon after, and, as far as Aragorn could tell, had no intention of reappearing in the near future.

What is it that elves do in there? he wondered. Surely it cannot take so long just to get oneself clean! Ah, but there are some things I shall never have the answer to, I suppose.

He towelled himself dry briskly, and, for lack of a fresh change of clothes, wrapped the towel around his middle.

Dusk faded and the first stars shone gleaming before Elrohir unlatched the door which joined their rooms.

'Well?' he demanded. 'Do you plan to attend the betrothal dressed as you are?'

Aragorn glanced down at his near-naked body, and then at his dirty clothes heaped on the bed. He opened his mouth, but confusion robbed him of an answer.

'Oh, you mortals are hopeless!' exclaimed Elladan, appearing behind Elrohir. Both smelt of scented oils – very much an elf thing, Aragorn had decided. Nowhere in his journeys amongst men had he encountered its like.

Elladan was dressed in black velvet, which shimmered with red when he moved. Elrohir wore the same, only his tunic gleamed blue-black. Both outfits had been tailored to resemble an eagle's proud plumage, and twin eagle masks – one with eyes of sapphire, the other of ruby – completed the motif.

Aragorn's eyes widened. 'Where did that come from?'

'Oh, it's always handy to be prepared,' said Elrohir vaguely.

'We store some…things…here, and in return, direct patronage to the inn. Quite a successful bargain, if I do say so myself. Father has hopefully forgotten about these particular outfits…but it is always better to be safe,' Elladan added.

Aragorn could only shake his head.

He did it much more vehemently when he saw the outfit that Elladan held up for him.

'Oh, no,' he said.

Elladan's eyes sparkled. 'Oh, yes. You will look simply marvellous in this, Estel. Unless you really did want to attend clad in nought but the innkeeper's best towel?'

~~*~~

Legolas stood on the dais, and watched the crowd in front of him blur into a haze of colour. The musicians played merry music, which warbled and skittered off-key to Legolas' ears. The noise threatened to over-whelm him. Legolas let his eyes slide unfocussed. The colours spun brightly.

Breathe.

It was custom for all the guests at a betrothal feast to be masked, save only the intended pair. Only after Legolas and Heleyna had pledged their union, would the others be free to remove their masks if they chose to. Many made a night of it, and delighted in the sport of stealing a kiss – or more – from an apparent stranger.

Amidst the colours, Legolas' eye caught glimpse of a muted grey robe. Elian. She was unmasked, despite Legolas' protestations that she was indeed a guest, and not a servant. Their eyes met, briefly, and Elian glanced urgently towards the elf who stood slightly behind him.

Legolas stopped himself from jumping with a great effort. Lord Celeborn had begun to speak, and he had not even noticed!

'Before I can present the Lady Heleyna,' Celeborn was saying, 'I must unfortunately mar tonight's joy with a warning. Know, that this same warning is even now being announced to your fellow elves in Rivendell.' His eyes, dark and unreadable, looked over the hall of amassed elves. He looked at none in particular, but all felt his gaze deep in their hearts. 'I am saddened by this feud between my brother Houses, between the Woodland Realm and Rivendell. But no more shall your ancient rivalry disrupt the peace of my land. Hear, now. From this time, any who shall take the life of another, shall be banished. In no Elven land will they be welcomed, and any who harbour them will be punished.'

Celeborn paused, and looked again over the crowd, who murmured in disquiet.

'This is my word,' he said. 'And it shall be law.'

Then he smiled, and gestured to Legolas, who still stood like a surprised deer in the middle of the dais.

'My good elves of Mirkwood and Lorien, I present before you Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm!'

The elves cheered, and Legolas felt he was being washed away in a flash-flood. He tried desperately to breathe evenly through the waves of panic.

Oh, no. No. It cannot be! How did this happen? How is it that yesterday, I was free, and today, I am to be betrothed?

'And his betrothed, the Lady Heleyna Dawnsinger!'

Legolas did not even hear the cries of approval that went up at her name, as he turned to catch his first real glimpse of his betrothed.

She was beautiful the way ice was beautiful; pale, exquisite and cold. Her gown was of silver and white, of pure silk and glittering crystals. But it was her face that Legolas could not tear his gaze away from. Her mouth was firm, her chin determined. With her colouring, her eyes should have been blue or grey, but they were a dark, lustrous black. Legolas could see the cunning intelligence in those eyes, and the deliberate way in which they studied and measured him.

Elbereth!

He extended a hand to her as she climbed the two steps to his dais. Heleyna Dawnsinger took his hand, but politely and distantly. She extended only the barest feather-touch as, skirts swirling, she took her place beside him.

Legolas stood, not aware of anything but her ice-cold hand freezing his own with her touch, as a joyful elven song rose from those before him. Then Mithrandir stepped before them, and Legolas almost gave in to panic.

He is going to read me my last rights! he thought desperately.

But the Istari began chanting the binding words of their betrothal.

There was only silence when he finished. Legolas could feel his heartbeat racing, but Heleyna's hand on his retained its slow, deliberate pulse.

He knew there were ritual words to be said.

Before you all and beneath the grace of the Valar, I accept Heleyna Dawnsinger as my betrothed, and seal my intentions with this gift.

But he could not make the words come, and it was with hands that trembled ever so slightly, that he held up the gift that Berethin had supplied him.

It was a spring blossom, a sweet sprig of jendolin caught forever in the freshness of its first day of bloom by subtle elven coaxing. It hung from a fine chain of spun gold, and shone incongruously as he fastened it around Heleyna's snow-white throat.

Her smile was of pure triumph as she leaned in close to him.

'You are mine now, Legolas Greenleaf,' she whispered in his ear. 'Do not ever forget that.'

~~*~~

I know this one didn't have any slash. I hope you're still interested in this story. Please review if you would like to read chapter 5, First Kiss.