:::
(Aragorn)
:::
My fingers trembled and a teardrop landed on the parchment in my hands, forming a grey splotch. Was this reality? Another one? Oh, Elbereth, this could not be happening...no...
Arwen, coming from behind, put a gentle hand on my shoulders. I turned to face her. Confused eyes, a slight arch in her unbroken eyebrows. Her expression asked me the question I most dreaded, but I forced my lips to move.
"Faramir is dead." My voice was flat and dead to the world. She was silent, her face serene and unmoving. "His throat was slit, he died instantly."
"He died in Rohan, didn't he?" Her tone was cool, calm. Why were her eyes so cold now, looking at my face with suspicion? Why wasn't she stricken by grief?
"Yes," I frowned. "A visit to King Eomer, Faramir and his wife. They sojourned for a bit over a week. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason. Who killed him?" Ice in her eyes, but they began to melt into tears. Maybe I'd just imagined this temporary strange reserved look.
"I know her not, but Eowyn's waiting-woman," I answered. A weird feeling flushed through me, mentioning her name. Eowyn, White Lady of Gondor. Beautiful, cold Eowyn, like a rose trapped in a block of ice. I sighed. "They say she went on a rampage. She'd tried to kill them both. Eowyn got away with quite a few wounds, but Faramir had been killed first and was caught by surprise."
"She must be devastated," Arwen whispered pensively. "I'd never bear to lose you," she came into my arms. I buried my face in her soft hair and enveloped her slender figure to me.
Ah, such bitter loss. Faramir, Faramir, you would join your brother and father in death, would you not? I whispered a prayer to the Gods. Help him, reunite him with his family. It was the last line of the Stewards of Gondor.
Oh, and he was so young! A man at his prime, fierce, loving, strong...Gondor would mourn for his loss, I knew. But first, it was time for his close of kin to mourn. Still embracing my beloved Arwen, I gently whispered into her ear, "We shall leave for the funeral at the first of dawn tomorrow, my love."
:::
(Legolas)
:::
I thought of her, her cool beauty, her eternal voice. Ah, Arwen, the Light of your people, how I love you so. For so long did I want you, did I need you. I knew I could love you the way no other would, with respect and compassion. I knew I would be the one, and our marriage would've been eternal...
But alas, there had been another.
'Twas of the Midsummer Festival, held in the Second Age. Of the date, so long ago, it'd slipped my mind. My beloved Father and brothers were so eager to visit Lord Elrond, we hadn't been in Imladris for centuries. I barely remembered the journey, for I was in eager anticipation of this Festival. There would be festivity and joy, and of course, the renowned Summer Ball.
I still remember being amazed when Elrond's great doors opened and our family first entered the ballroom. Tables and tables of exotic foods I'd never set upon my tongue, hundreds of beautiful Elves and people in their finest attire, the walls decorated with tapestries, the sharp fragrance of cherry wine...oh, the memory of that night would never leave me.
With my longtime friends Elledan and Elrohir, I sat and talked of recent going-ons, laughing and enjoying myself to the fullest. How wonderful this gathering, how divine! The conversation somehow got off topic, and before long, the twin brothers were pulling me up and urging me to meet you.
"No, no!" I remembered, protesting and laughing. I'd drank quite a bit. "I've known Arwen since she was a little girl and used to tease her, she should hate me now!"
They didn't listen, but clenched firm fingers round my wrist and led me to a bevy of lovely young ladies. We were quite young, so all the girls quieted and blushed. I wasn't aware of my good looks then, my blue eyes and the exquisite bones in my face. All I knew was that when a certain Elven maiden stepped up and curtsied, locking her eyes into mine, I was stupefied.
Eru, was this real?
She was stunning. She had the deepest azure eyes I'd ever gazed into. High, flushed cheekbones and well-shaped lips showed her femininity. Oh, and her deep green gown, how it revealed her narrow waist, slender legs and defined collarbone! Her deep auburn hair, rippling in soft waves down to her waist, spilled over her shoulders so naturally. This had to be the perfection of the perfect. Never had I seen one of beautiful, so intense. Her eyes were so large, so innocent, I wanted to take her into my arms and kiss her...
"Prince Legolas," she murmured. Such a deep voice! She had changed so much from a doll-loving, adorable little girl to a beautiful and serene maiden. I suddenly felt self-conscious. Was my tunic wrinkled? Why were my hands sweating so much? Did she notice that I'd drunk several goblets of wine?
"Arwen," I bowed, hating the way my voice sounded so whiny and flat compared to her deep, beautiful tone. She didn't seem to notice my discomfort.
"How was your journey here?" she said thoughtfully. Oh, her eyes were so deep, so blue.
"Fine," I replied. "If you can tolerate a day's worth of wet, humid rain, that is," I smiled, then I felt like an idiot. Would I seem like a fool to be afraid of rain?
Arwen smiled, her eyes twinkling in mirth. "These days, the weather is intolerable, yes." Beside me, a flock of Elven maidens had shyly began to talk to Elledan and Elrohir, but Arwen was talking to me, looking in my eyes, focusing on me...
I was staring, and I knew it. Was this love? No, it couldn't be, I barely even knew Arwen! She probably already had a lover, how could she not? The thought stung me, and my face must've shown my feelings because she reached over and gently touched my arm.
"Are you feeling well, Legolas?" she asked, her frown making the slightest crease between her eyebrows. I couldn't help but notice these little details.
"I-I'm fine," I averted my eyes. Eru, this woman was making me go crazy! I had to say something, something intelligent. She was the one making all the conversation, while I just stood and answered her. "Your father has prepared such a grand evening for us, milady. My father and I are truly honored to be here tonight."
She smiled wistfully. "Yes, Lord Elrond has once again outdone himself. You cannot possibly imagine all the hours he spent planning this event, but personally, I find these celebrations a bit dull. It's always the same routine. Even a bit of a waste of time."
I'd never thought Arwen could be even the slightest bit unhappy. Didn't she have it all? No, of course not, what was I thinking? She was just like me, she had her likes and dislikes.
"I can imagine," I said, lifting up a bottle of white wine. "Would you like more?" She held up her goblet and I carefully poured the tangy liquid into her cup before filling mine also. The way she looked at me sent cold shivers down my back. Her eyes were so deep and mysterious yet penetrating, I felt exposed under her gaze.
"Legolas!" Elrohir gestured, coming over. "The dinner is starting soon, and your Father wants you to be there." I smiled apologetically to Arwen and whispered a goodbye. Throughout dinner, I barely ate any food. Arwen sat next to her brothers, and I across from her, but we did not speak. I did, although, sneak glances at her every so often. She ate lightly also, seemingly distracted by something.
When the feast had ended, stomachs were filled and spirits were high. The lights dimmed and soft waltz music began. Of course, the ball. I glanced at Arwen. Already many couples had stepped onto the floor, and she was staring at them wistfully. Did she have someone to dance with? Or was she missing somebody? I ached to know. She turned around to meet my eyes, and without knowing what I was doing, I blurted it out.
"Would you like to dance?"
She turned her head ever so slightly and looked at me from the corner of her eyes, almost suspicious. For the longest moment of my life, she gazed at me. Then, a small smile appeared on her rose lips. "Yes, I should love to."
It had been like a dream. I led her to the floor, and hesitantly put my hands upon her narrow waist. She pulled in closer, and I could smell the fragrance of her perfume. The rest of it, I didn't remember, except that it was the most amazing night of my life. We danced and danced until we could dance no more, and at the stroke of midnight, Arwen suggested going for a walk. In Elrond's lovely garden did we stroll, and when we were entering the villa again, I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her. She was so beautiful in the moonlight, so divine. I was drunk, drunk on the love I felt for her.
Arwen and I kept our dignities and went our separate ways that night, but I knew I'd found something precious. We lived far from each other, but at the time, nothing would stop me from visiting her often. I dreamt of riding in the rain to see her, sleeping with her in my arms, breathing in her scent...ah, it was all too good to be true.
And indeed, it was.
For when I returned to her after that evening a month or so later, she'd changed. No, not physically, she was still beautiful and young as ever. But she was distracted. And the next time even more distracted. She was responsive to my conversations and her eyes were filled with love, but that love soon faded, and about a year later, I knew she loved me no more.
"It's over," were my first words when I came in through the doors. "Arwen, we're over."
"Legolas!" she exclaimed, and touched my arm, but I flinched and pulled away. She looked me with sad cerulean eyes brimmed with tears. I bit back my own.
"Yes, it's over," she whispered. The words hit me hard-half of me had wanted her to reassure me I was just being pessimistic, just gloomy...but she said it too.
When I was walking out the doors, a new stranger caught my eye. A sharp- looking mortal passed me with intense green eyes and dark hair. I glanced at him for a brief minute, and he surveyed me. Then, only a second later, we passed and it was over. But the feeling that he was more than what was on the surface never left me.
Over the years, as blackness crept into the lands of Middle-Earth, my relationship with Arwen became stiff. At banquets, we would nod politely, make small talk and then go our own ways. I never had another lover-Arwen was my first love and my only. I found the dark mortal's name to be Estel. We talked easily enough, and over time developed a steady friendship. When I discovered he and Arwen were together, the pain was maddening, but I pushed it away. Why couldn't he be with her? He was, after all, going to be King of Men one day.
Yet despite Aragorn's true title, Arwen's sweet nature and their natural attraction to one another, I couldn't shake the deep reluctance I felt toward their love. And it wasn't until I met Eowyn, White Lady of Gondor, did I first allow another to know what I'd felt.
:::
(Aragorn)
:::
My fingers trembled and a teardrop landed on the parchment in my hands, forming a grey splotch. Was this reality? Another one? Oh, Elbereth, this could not be happening...no...
Arwen, coming from behind, put a gentle hand on my shoulders. I turned to face her. Confused eyes, a slight arch in her unbroken eyebrows. Her expression asked me the question I most dreaded, but I forced my lips to move.
"Faramir is dead." My voice was flat and dead to the world. She was silent, her face serene and unmoving. "His throat was slit, he died instantly."
"He died in Rohan, didn't he?" Her tone was cool, calm. Why were her eyes so cold now, looking at my face with suspicion? Why wasn't she stricken by grief?
"Yes," I frowned. "A visit to King Eomer, Faramir and his wife. They sojourned for a bit over a week. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason. Who killed him?" Ice in her eyes, but they began to melt into tears. Maybe I'd just imagined this temporary strange reserved look.
"I know her not, but Eowyn's waiting-woman," I answered. A weird feeling flushed through me, mentioning her name. Eowyn, White Lady of Gondor. Beautiful, cold Eowyn, like a rose trapped in a block of ice. I sighed. "They say she went on a rampage. She'd tried to kill them both. Eowyn got away with quite a few wounds, but Faramir had been killed first and was caught by surprise."
"She must be devastated," Arwen whispered pensively. "I'd never bear to lose you," she came into my arms. I buried my face in her soft hair and enveloped her slender figure to me.
Ah, such bitter loss. Faramir, Faramir, you would join your brother and father in death, would you not? I whispered a prayer to the Gods. Help him, reunite him with his family. It was the last line of the Stewards of Gondor.
Oh, and he was so young! A man at his prime, fierce, loving, strong...Gondor would mourn for his loss, I knew. But first, it was time for his close of kin to mourn. Still embracing my beloved Arwen, I gently whispered into her ear, "We shall leave for the funeral at the first of dawn tomorrow, my love."
:::
(Legolas)
:::
I thought of her, her cool beauty, her eternal voice. Ah, Arwen, the Light of your people, how I love you so. For so long did I want you, did I need you. I knew I could love you the way no other would, with respect and compassion. I knew I would be the one, and our marriage would've been eternal...
But alas, there had been another.
'Twas of the Midsummer Festival, held in the Second Age. Of the date, so long ago, it'd slipped my mind. My beloved Father and brothers were so eager to visit Lord Elrond, we hadn't been in Imladris for centuries. I barely remembered the journey, for I was in eager anticipation of this Festival. There would be festivity and joy, and of course, the renowned Summer Ball.
I still remember being amazed when Elrond's great doors opened and our family first entered the ballroom. Tables and tables of exotic foods I'd never set upon my tongue, hundreds of beautiful Elves and people in their finest attire, the walls decorated with tapestries, the sharp fragrance of cherry wine...oh, the memory of that night would never leave me.
With my longtime friends Elledan and Elrohir, I sat and talked of recent going-ons, laughing and enjoying myself to the fullest. How wonderful this gathering, how divine! The conversation somehow got off topic, and before long, the twin brothers were pulling me up and urging me to meet you.
"No, no!" I remembered, protesting and laughing. I'd drank quite a bit. "I've known Arwen since she was a little girl and used to tease her, she should hate me now!"
They didn't listen, but clenched firm fingers round my wrist and led me to a bevy of lovely young ladies. We were quite young, so all the girls quieted and blushed. I wasn't aware of my good looks then, my blue eyes and the exquisite bones in my face. All I knew was that when a certain Elven maiden stepped up and curtsied, locking her eyes into mine, I was stupefied.
Eru, was this real?
She was stunning. She had the deepest azure eyes I'd ever gazed into. High, flushed cheekbones and well-shaped lips showed her femininity. Oh, and her deep green gown, how it revealed her narrow waist, slender legs and defined collarbone! Her deep auburn hair, rippling in soft waves down to her waist, spilled over her shoulders so naturally. This had to be the perfection of the perfect. Never had I seen one of beautiful, so intense. Her eyes were so large, so innocent, I wanted to take her into my arms and kiss her...
"Prince Legolas," she murmured. Such a deep voice! She had changed so much from a doll-loving, adorable little girl to a beautiful and serene maiden. I suddenly felt self-conscious. Was my tunic wrinkled? Why were my hands sweating so much? Did she notice that I'd drunk several goblets of wine?
"Arwen," I bowed, hating the way my voice sounded so whiny and flat compared to her deep, beautiful tone. She didn't seem to notice my discomfort.
"How was your journey here?" she said thoughtfully. Oh, her eyes were so deep, so blue.
"Fine," I replied. "If you can tolerate a day's worth of wet, humid rain, that is," I smiled, then I felt like an idiot. Would I seem like a fool to be afraid of rain?
Arwen smiled, her eyes twinkling in mirth. "These days, the weather is intolerable, yes." Beside me, a flock of Elven maidens had shyly began to talk to Elledan and Elrohir, but Arwen was talking to me, looking in my eyes, focusing on me...
I was staring, and I knew it. Was this love? No, it couldn't be, I barely even knew Arwen! She probably already had a lover, how could she not? The thought stung me, and my face must've shown my feelings because she reached over and gently touched my arm.
"Are you feeling well, Legolas?" she asked, her frown making the slightest crease between her eyebrows. I couldn't help but notice these little details.
"I-I'm fine," I averted my eyes. Eru, this woman was making me go crazy! I had to say something, something intelligent. She was the one making all the conversation, while I just stood and answered her. "Your father has prepared such a grand evening for us, milady. My father and I are truly honored to be here tonight."
She smiled wistfully. "Yes, Lord Elrond has once again outdone himself. You cannot possibly imagine all the hours he spent planning this event, but personally, I find these celebrations a bit dull. It's always the same routine. Even a bit of a waste of time."
I'd never thought Arwen could be even the slightest bit unhappy. Didn't she have it all? No, of course not, what was I thinking? She was just like me, she had her likes and dislikes.
"I can imagine," I said, lifting up a bottle of white wine. "Would you like more?" She held up her goblet and I carefully poured the tangy liquid into her cup before filling mine also. The way she looked at me sent cold shivers down my back. Her eyes were so deep and mysterious yet penetrating, I felt exposed under her gaze.
"Legolas!" Elrohir gestured, coming over. "The dinner is starting soon, and your Father wants you to be there." I smiled apologetically to Arwen and whispered a goodbye. Throughout dinner, I barely ate any food. Arwen sat next to her brothers, and I across from her, but we did not speak. I did, although, sneak glances at her every so often. She ate lightly also, seemingly distracted by something.
When the feast had ended, stomachs were filled and spirits were high. The lights dimmed and soft waltz music began. Of course, the ball. I glanced at Arwen. Already many couples had stepped onto the floor, and she was staring at them wistfully. Did she have someone to dance with? Or was she missing somebody? I ached to know. She turned around to meet my eyes, and without knowing what I was doing, I blurted it out.
"Would you like to dance?"
She turned her head ever so slightly and looked at me from the corner of her eyes, almost suspicious. For the longest moment of my life, she gazed at me. Then, a small smile appeared on her rose lips. "Yes, I should love to."
It had been like a dream. I led her to the floor, and hesitantly put my hands upon her narrow waist. She pulled in closer, and I could smell the fragrance of her perfume. The rest of it, I didn't remember, except that it was the most amazing night of my life. We danced and danced until we could dance no more, and at the stroke of midnight, Arwen suggested going for a walk. In Elrond's lovely garden did we stroll, and when we were entering the villa again, I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her. She was so beautiful in the moonlight, so divine. I was drunk, drunk on the love I felt for her.
Arwen and I kept our dignities and went our separate ways that night, but I knew I'd found something precious. We lived far from each other, but at the time, nothing would stop me from visiting her often. I dreamt of riding in the rain to see her, sleeping with her in my arms, breathing in her scent...ah, it was all too good to be true.
And indeed, it was.
For when I returned to her after that evening a month or so later, she'd changed. No, not physically, she was still beautiful and young as ever. But she was distracted. And the next time even more distracted. She was responsive to my conversations and her eyes were filled with love, but that love soon faded, and about a year later, I knew she loved me no more.
"It's over," were my first words when I came in through the doors. "Arwen, we're over."
"Legolas!" she exclaimed, and touched my arm, but I flinched and pulled away. She looked me with sad cerulean eyes brimmed with tears. I bit back my own.
"Yes, it's over," she whispered. The words hit me hard-half of me had wanted her to reassure me I was just being pessimistic, just gloomy...but she said it too.
When I was walking out the doors, a new stranger caught my eye. A sharp- looking mortal passed me with intense green eyes and dark hair. I glanced at him for a brief minute, and he surveyed me. Then, only a second later, we passed and it was over. But the feeling that he was more than what was on the surface never left me.
Over the years, as blackness crept into the lands of Middle-Earth, my relationship with Arwen became stiff. At banquets, we would nod politely, make small talk and then go our own ways. I never had another lover-Arwen was my first love and my only. I found the dark mortal's name to be Estel. We talked easily enough, and over time developed a steady friendship. When I discovered he and Arwen were together, the pain was maddening, but I pushed it away. Why couldn't he be with her? He was, after all, going to be King of Men one day.
Yet despite Aragorn's true title, Arwen's sweet nature and their natural attraction to one another, I couldn't shake the deep reluctance I felt toward their love. And it wasn't until I met Eowyn, White Lady of Gondor, did I first allow another to know what I'd felt.
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