***
Chapter Two: Many Good-byes
***
Dewdrops clung to the long grass, reflecting the orange glow of a distant sunrise. Only the slightest of breezes whispered through the trees, and the horses were eager to get going. It was a beautiful morning for a ride.
Standing before the band of travellers, King Elessar of Gondor looked over each in turn. After the perilous journey of the Ring, it had become his nature to protect his friends from whatever dangers may come. In peace times such as these, he knew it was probably unnecessary, but it would be done all the same.
Merry was fishing through his pack, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration. When he plucked an apple from it's depths, a triumphant grin lit up his face. Beside him, Pippin rubbed his eyes and yawned. Starting at dawn, in his opinion, was starting too soon indeed! Once he had several breakfasts in him, Aragorn knew, he would be as lively and troublesome as usual.
Frodo stood at Gandalf's side, hands on his hips and an exasperated expression on his face. Sam was rifling through the older Hobbit's pack, taking out anything heavier than a scrap of cloth. His own pack sagged heavily from his shoulders.
Speaking in hushed voices with Lord Elrond, Gandalf was leaning heavily against his staff, seeming much more a bent old man than a powerful wizard. Appearances, quite obviously, were terribly deceiving.
The intense grey gaze of the Ranger settled on Legolas. In the week that had passed since the attack, the wounds Arwen had bestowed upon the fair Elf had all but disappeared. Not disappeared, however, was the fierce animosity between Arwen and Elrohir. It would pass, Elrond had suggested, in and only in time. For his part, difficult though it had been, Aragorn had forgiven and forgotten. He had a notion that it was quite impossible to stay angry with an Elf in tears.
Elladan and Elrohir flanked the Wood-Elf, who was absentmindedly stroking his horse's mane. The beast was strong and proud, coat a shimmering gold in the morning light. It had been freed from its saddle, for Legolas had no need of it. Aragorn chuckled, remembering when as a young man, he had copied the Wood-Elf and foregone saddle himself. He had not walked comfortably for a week.
"Is there anything you have forgotten, my friends?"
Elladan grinned, "Nay, Estel. We know how to pack for a journey such as this, and have gone over our list thrice. Little Samwise seems to have packed enough for the lot of us, the doughty little fellow!"
"'Tis true," agreed Elrohir, smiling broadly at the blushing gardener. "But worry not, Estel. We would never dream of leaving on a trip without for instance, soap or spare leggings!"
The twins laughed heartily at Aragorn's deep blush. Terrible memories of riding bare-bottomed into glorious Lothlorien filled his mind, and he cleared his throat noisily. "In that case, farewell! Be safe, my friends!"
At the King's side, Gimli looked up, his face alit with mirth. "I should wonder if there is a tale behind that barb! One I would not mind hearing, doubtless!"
Securing his pack, Legolas laughed gaily. "When I return, friend Gimli, you shall have your fill of tales and then some. Dear Aragorn turns quite purple when embarrassed. Fare well!" With a wink to the dwarf, and a wicked grin for the King, he leapt lightly upon his eager steed.
With a multitude of hugs, goodbyes and well-wishes, the remainder mounted their horses and docile ponies. Three Elves, four Hobbits and an Istari passed through the gate of Minas Tirith's extravagant palace and then were away.
***
Their companions little more than a distant speck on the horizon, and the Lord of Imladris turned to head indoors, quiet Lord Glorfindel at his heels. Linking her slender arm through his, Arwen made move to follow her father back through the sturdy doors. When Elrond noticed that the King had made no move to leave, and indeed had not moved at all, he sighed heavily and grasped the much younger man's shoulder.
"Watching for them, Estel, will not speed their return but instead draw it out impossibly in your mind. You insult them with your worries… are they not competent? Gandalf the White, the Ringbearer and his mighty kinsmen, the best archer in all of Arda, and my sons!" Such stress was upon the latter that Aragorn could not help but laugh at his father's fierce pride.
"Your sons," the Ranger grinned, "are the exact reason I worry. I know them too well."
At this, Elrond paused but had to concede Aragorn's point. "That is true. I have never known such troublesome Elves in all my years! Surely it is no fault of mine," the half-Elf sniffed haughtily, and completely in jest, "It must be their relation to that wretch Galadriel!"
"Yes, it must," Aragorn nodded solemnly, and Glorfindel laughed in spite of himself.
Gimli, however, was not amused. He sputtered in his rage, and shook his balled fists up at his taller company. "Why… Who! Who do you think you are! To dare— Of all the nerve! To dare speak of the Lady of the Wood so wickedly! I ought to—"
Elrond raised an eyebrow, and fixed his gaze on Aragorn for explanation. The King merely shrugged, "They bonded in Lothlorien. He is quite attached to the Lady of the Galadhrim."
Elrond knelt then, so as to meet Gimli's eye directly, and spoke in tones one would use with an aggravated child. "Calm yourself, Gimli Elf-friend. I speak purely in jest, the Lady Galadriel is my second mother, and I love her dearly as well!"
Gimli glowered for a moment, but decided that he was entirely outnumbered and in improper company to protest further. "If it is of the same Fair Lady of Lorien that we speak, then I will unsecret my plans: I will return to the Golden Wood, for I greatly desire a chance to spend what time I may with the Lady before her departure for the west. My time during the Journey of the Ring was cut too short for my liking, and wrought with much sorrow. My thoughts were such as we left on Anduin for worser times yet, and I heard her voice in my head. She bid me return when I would, and that there was always a place at the venerable tables of Lothlorien for this son of Glóin son of Gróin!"
All three Elves beamed down at the Dwarf. Arwen bent to place a kiss on his brow, and the Dwarf nearly blushed beneath his beard. "You are truly unique, Gimli Elf-friend. It is my hope that someday all Dwarves will be such entitled, Elf-friends, and all old bickering and name-calling be long left behind."
Aragorn nodded earnestly, recalling too quickly the fierce animosity that Gimli had originally held for their Legolas, and Legolas' for the gruff Dwarf. However, a question was on his mind that could not be swayed. "Why did you not travel with Legolas' party, Master Dwarf? They will pass through Lorien themselves, on their path up the Anduin…"
"Aye, that I know. Yet, I wish to travel on foot, and pass through Edoras before making my path further northward. It was our promise to Éomer that his horses Arod and Hasufel be returned when our need was no more, and Dwarves keep their promises!" the Dwarf turned his dark eyes toward the stables, where their faithful horses were housed. "It would do my heart good to see him again, and bravest Éowyn as well."
"Ah," the Man smiled, "Dwarves are not horsemen. I have lost count of the times you've told me as much, Gimli, but would you take an offered pony to speed your path?"
"It will take you many months to reach Lorien otherwise," Elrond added, and that put stop to all of Gimli's protests.
"It would be much appreciated, your highness," Gimli reluctantly agreed, with a deep bow that earned him a swat from 'his highness' himself. "You will have to get used to the titles, my friend. I have much nastier names in my stores, so consider yourself lucky!"
Aragorn grinned, "Of course, most noble Gimli, son of Glóin, son of Gróin, Elf-friend!"
Raucous laughter soon won over his scowl, and the Dwarf led his friends inside.
***
"You have been quiet of late, my daughter…"
Arwen raised a perfectly arched brow, doing a fine imitation of her father and presently, the only other person in her sleeping chambers. "I have spent much of my time in thought, Ada. There is no reason to worry over such silence."
"Elrohir will forgive you, in time," Elrond suggested, wrongly interpreting his daughter's troubles. "He loves you, and it is only because he adores Legolas so that he is so upset. Twofold, in that case, for he is upset that the Prince was hurt, and also that Legolas feels not for Elrohir how Elrohir feels for him. It breaks my heart to see him so forlorn, and yet I cannot do anything for him but offer an open ear."
Arwen curled up on the carved bench at her father's side, resting her silky-tressed head against his strong shoulder. "I know, Ada. Elladan has told me as much, and I feel sorry for Elrohir myself. I know for some part how it feels to love someone unrequited."
At this, Elrond leaned away so he could look his daughter in the eye. "Do you?"
"I do."
"And whom, given your love, could not love you back?"
"Estel, Ada. I see it in his eyes. He loves me, of course, but not as a lover. I am his sister, a close friend, but no more. I could easily love him further, but he not I. His heart belongs to another, he has simply yet to realize it. Elladan sees it also, as does Elrohir, though he will not admit it." Arwen's blue eyes filled with tears, and she buried her face in her father's ruby-robed shoulder.
Elrond stroked her back gently, mind reeling. He had heard of no such 'other', and at present could not think of anyone whom it could possibly be. It was true that Aragorn had not spent much time in Elrond's company of late, but when he had, his spare time was spent with Arwen, the twins, Legolas and Gimli or the Hobbits. No secret lover. Shaking his head, Elrond made to reassure his daughter.
"Then why does Estel put up all pretence of loving you in such a way, and so believably? I think you are only insecure, Arwen, Estel adores you and has always done so…"
Arwen laughed then, though it was choked with emotion, "Believe me or not, Adar, it is the truth and it will become clear in time."
"Then will you not leave with me, with your people, for Valinor? You said you bonded yourself to him, and now face a time of doubt. I would not have you give up on Estel because of insecurities, when they likely stem only from his distraction and moodiness due to newfound duties as King… But I would not have you stay with him in the first place. You belong with your people, Arwen. You are our Undómiel." Elrond sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he often did. When had things become so complex?
"I suppose only time will tell. Goodnight, Ada." Arwen kissed her father on the cheek, and moved across the room to her bed.
The half-Elf rose and moved to the door. Looking upon Arwen's resting form, he snuffed out the candle mounted upon the wall. "Goodnight, Arwen," Elrond sighed, longing for the far-gone days when his children's hearts yearned for only sweets and games and well-told tales. Simpler times, they had been, and happier ones at that.
***
It had been nearly a week since the party had left for Mirkwood, and to Aragorn, it seemed an age. As he dressed slowly for breakfast, a knock sounded upon his door.
"Who goes there?"
A muffled but instantly recognizable voice answered, "Arwen goes. May I come in?"
Grinning, Aragorn threw on the closest tunic at hand and strode across the airy chamber to the door. "Of course," he said as he pulled the heavy door open, "Good morning!"
"Good morning, Estel," Arwen smiled, thought it did not reach her clear blue eyes. "I… Do you have a moment to talk? I hope I'm not intruding…"
Aragorn sank to a seat upon his soft bed, and patted the mattress beside himself. "Of course you are not, dear Arwen. What can I help you with?"
Arwen did not take her place at his side, but stepped inside and closed the door. Trying to gather her thoughts, she finally found her tongue. Aragorn had begun to look rather concerned. "I… I shall ride to Lorien with Gimli at noon."
Of all things she could have said, this caught Aragorn off guard most of all. He rose, and took her hands in his confusion. "Why would you go? You have only just arrived, and have spent so little time with me… Have I done something to offend you? It was not my intention, I swear to you! I would rather fall upon my sword than hurt you, you know that…"
The Elf slipped her pale hands from Aragorn's weather-worn ones, and wrung them together nervously. She had scripted herself, plotted every word, but now that the time had come, she could not find the courage to say them. "I know," she replied meekly.
Aragorn's stormy eyes were beginning to glow with hurt, as he waited for something more. Finally, he asked, "Why, Arwen? We are to wed in six months time; there are endless preparations we need to oversee, and I… I will be very lonely if you leave as well…" A thought dawned on the Man, and he stared at his bare feet, fearing to look her in the eye. "Do you not love me?"
Placing a hand over her mouth to choke a sob, Arwen fled the room. It was all Aragorn could do not to sob himself. What had he done?
***
"Adar?"
Knowing that only two remained in Minas Tirith who would call him such a name, and knowing also that only one owned a deep, male voice, Elrond did not have to look up from his book to know who addressed him. "Yes, Estel?"
The Man took the chair on Elrond's left, and swung his legs beneath like he had done as a child. A sure sign that something was troubling him, Elrond knew, especially since the King was chewing on his bottom lip. "Adar, I have just spoken with Arwen…"
"Ah," said Elrond, and he set his book down. "And what did she tell you?"
"That she was leaving for Lorien with Gimli," Aragorn replied quizzically.
Elrond's jaw dropped, but he quickly snapped it shut. "Did she? Hmm…"
"Did you not know of this?"
"No, and I should certainly like to speak with her. Do you know where she is?" Elrond asked, downing the remainder of his wine in one gulp and rising from his seat. Aragorn rose as well, looking quite like he could use some wine. Many bottles thereof.
"She left my room at a sprint, when I asked her if she did not love me."
***
Humming an old song, whose words were long forgotten, Gimli bustled about his room in preparation for his trip. A pack lay half-filled upon his bed, and a tray of picked over fruit and bread sat upon the table, forgotten. A knock upon the open door startled him out of his reverie. He turned to find the stunning daughter of Elrond Half-Elven in his doorway.
"My lady," he said, bowing deeply, "To what do I owe this honour?"
Arwen's smile was fleeting, and she wasted no time in getting to the point. "I had wondered, Master Dwarf, if you were going to be lonely upon your travels?"
Gimli seemed rather surprised at the question, and shook his head fervently as he tested the blade of his axe. It could use a sharpening before departure. "I am used to travelling alone, though I do not do it often. Why do you ask, Lady Arwen?"
Fidgeting slightly, Arwen replied, "I ask, for I wonder if you have room for one more? I should like to accompany you to Lorien. I, too, wish to spend what time I may with Galadriel my mother's mother."
Gimli beamed, "It would be an honour! An honour indeed! You are more than welcome, my lady, but are you ready to leave today?"
"Yes," Arwen replied with a relieved smile. "I shall meet you at the gates at noon. You have my thanks, Master Dwarf."
"It will be my pleasure," Gimli insisted, and as the Elf left, he resumed his song and his packing, quite happily oblivious to all troubles of the heart.
***
Sharp though his eyes and ears were, it was only when Arwen passed upon her horse some minutes before noon that Elrond found her. He called to her, and she stopped, leaping lightly down to speak with her father face-to-face. Elrond tried valiantly to push his frustrations aside, and kept a cool tongue as he asked, "Why?"
Arwen blinked at the question. "Why?"
"Why do you flee so suddenly to Lothlorien? Leaving Estel and I in the dark?" Elrond frowned, noticing Aragorn crossing the courtyard toward them. "This is not like you."
Arwen smiled then, and kissed her father on the cheek. "I seek the advice of my Grandmother," she replied, "and I miss her besides. I will return in time for the wedding, do not fear. I am simply not sure if I will be taking part in it."
It was fated, perhaps, that Aragorn had caught this last, which was meant for Elrond alone. He stopped in mid-step, and stared at his betrothed in disbelief. "Arwen, what have I done? I apologized for my behaviour concerning the… attack," he said, "and I cannot think of anything I may have done to anger you so! Please, tell me…"
Elrond continued for the gates, so as to give the couple some privacy. Aragorn clutched Arwen's thin hand, and held it to his chest as she spoke. "I go because I wish to speak with my Grandmother, Estel. You have not angered me, and I love you very much—"
Relief flooded Aragorn's handsome features, "You had me worried, for a moment… But can you not visit Galadriel after we are wed? There is much to do, and little time to do it… Guests to invite, vows to prepare, gowns to fit… It is hectic, and I would prefer something simple, but apparently Kings must be extravagant in everything they do."
"It is not becoming of a King to interrupt," she chided gently. "I love you very much, Estel, but as I told father, I am not sure if I will be taking part in your wedding."
Aragorn caught her arm as she turned, "If you love me, why are you not sure? If not for you, there would be no wedding…"
Arwen smiled sadly then, and stroked the King's stubble-covered cheek lovingly. "Gimli is waiting for me. I must go."
"Arwen," the frustration in the Ranger's voice was clear. "Talk to me. If you love me… And I you, why—"
"That is exactly it," the Elf interrupted, "And you me. Spend good time in thought while I am gone, Estel. See if you truly wish to marry your sister… I will return in time for the ceremony, and will support whatever choice you make."
"You are my betrothed! Who else would I marry?" Aragorn cried in frustration, flinging his hands into the air. Arwen flinched, and climbed back upon her horse.
"Follow your heart, and you will find him. Farewell!"
With that, she turned upon her horse and raced from the gates, Gimli trotting along at her side. Arod and Hasufel took up the rear, following loyally without leash or command. Elrond passed the stricken King while returning inside, but said nothing. What to say?
***
"Follow your heart, and you will find him."
Him. Even as he held gaze with his lifelong betrothed, an Elf he thought defined love for him, Aragorn knew of whom she spoke. It was suddenly crystal clear, and yet muddled and impossibly confusing at the same time.
Legolas. The Greenleaf. The youngest Prince of Mirkwood. The sharp-eyed, golden-haired archer. Aragorn's oldest and dearest friend in all of Middle-earth... True love? It was not so unbelievable. What was, however, was any hope of Legolas returning such feelings. His knees giving way, the King of Gondor collapsed to the lush grass of his courtyard. What now?
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Considering it's been half a million years since I last updated, I decided to make this the entirety of chapter two, instead of half. My next chapter should deal with Legolas & Co.'s progress to Mirkwood, and I'm sorry if this chapter was too dull. It may take me a while to work up to the action (and A/L mush!), but I've got a master plan. No worries. Oh, and, thank you all SO much for reviewing me! (Do it again!) Hehe… Okay, time for bed! :D
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