Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine and everything else belongs to Tolkien.

A/N: If anywhere in the story it says 'Arterial' instead of Alarien, then it's just because I clicked on the wrong thing in my spell check, because I when I pasted it into a new html file from word I had to go through it and re-format it which was sooooooo boring, and so maybe I made some mistakes!

Sorry there haven't been any updates for a while, but A levels are presenting me with quite a lot of work. Who would have thought it, hey? :o) Anyways, I have been having writers block on my other story, but I promise that there will be another update on that one soon.

But on with the show! (And it's a nice lone chapter so you lot had better be appreciative! ;oD)

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He awoke the next morning, suffering from lack of sleep. It was the day of the first event and he knew he should have been more sensible and left meeting Arwen till after the competition. When he went down to breakfast, he was surprised to find her there, her slender frame draped in a violet gown with long, flared sleeves, her hair loose and flowing over her shoulders and down her back. His heart leapt at the sight of her, but he quickly pushed the thought of his head. She was engaged in conversation with Landir, but she looked up as she heard him enter. She looked tired and he could see that her eyes were again missing some of their usual sparkle.

He sat at the opposite end of the table and ate his meal in silence, allowing their conversation to wash over him, but not getting involved. He could feel her gaze on him every now and then, but he did not meet it, though it took all the will power he possessed, not to. Landir left before he had finished, he was obviously going to get some last minute practice in before the first event that afternoon. He shot Legolas a distasteful look as he passed him, but that was nothing unusual. A few minutes later, Arwen got up to leave, he stood up as she left, in the usual manner of politeness, expecting her to walk past him, but instead, she stopped and leaning over his shoulder to whisper in his ear, said:

"Meet me in the glade by the spring. We need to talk." Surprised, he barely had time to acknowledge her before she had left, the hem of her gown swinging as she turned through the door. He stared at his food for a few seconds before finishing it, taking his time. He would need the energy, and besides, she could wait for a few minutes. Soon, however, his will power ran out and he got up to leave.

In a few minutes he was in the glade. She was standing with her back to him, watching the stream, but she turned towards as she heard him approach. Neither said anything, and the silence engulfed them. They were totally alone.

Looking into his eyes, Alarien could see the pain in them, and it burned her like a flame to know that it was because of her that they were clouded. She could not keep up this charade; there were things that needed to be said. His voice cut through her thoughts, cold and sharp.

"You wanted to talk. So talk." She raised an eyebrow at his tone, then stepped closer to him.

"I'm sorry for what I said last night. You were right."

"About what?" The tone had changed now, it was still cold, but there was a hint of curiosity, hopefulness?

"I can't deny what I feel."

"What do you feel?" She took a deep breath and turned away again. In a small, quiet voice, she whispered, almost inaudibly:

"I love you." As he heard those three words, Legolas thought his heart would burst. He was filled with joy and happiness, but there was still an element of something unsaid in her voice.

"That's not all though, is it?" He asked, hesitantly. She sighed, "No. I meant what I said. It can't be." Rolling his eyes to the heavens, Legolas turned her round to face him.

"Why?" He asked exasperatedly, "Why can't we be together?" His heart contracted as he saw her eyes flood with pain. She looked down, her eyes looking at the floor.

"I…I can't tell you."

"Arwen, you can't play around with my feelings like this. I told you I loved you, and you told me the same. And yet you say it cannot be? What is the problem? I love you." He stepped closer to her, cupping her face in his hands and tilting it so that her gaze met his before repeating his words. "I love you, Arwen." As she looked at him, Alarien was filled with an almighty conflict of emotions. He was so beautiful, perfect, and he had chosen her! But she couldn't betray Arwen because she had fallen for the beautiful being standing in front of her. She looked away.

"There is only one way."

"Then tell me. I would walk to the ends of the earth for you, the only thing I want is for us to be together." He stepped forward and took her hands in his.

"We must meet only in secret."

"Then so be it." He moved so that there was nothing between them, and bending his head, gently brushed his lips against hers. She sighed and rested her forehead against his. He took her in his arms and laid his head on her shoulder, his face in her hair. He breathed in the fresh scent of flowers that she seemed to radiate, filling his lungs with it. His hands rested on her waist, and the warmth of her skin through her gown made him feel weak. He was so happy he thought that he would explode, he couldn't see how he could possibly contain the love he felt. He was totally at her mercy. She raised her head towards his and he bent towards it and tenderly kissed the corner of her mouth before kissing her fully. She knew that of the three kisses they had shared, this was the most tender, passionate and perfect of them. She could feel his heart beating close to hers, and as they broke apart, she leant her head on his chest. He leaned his head on top of hers and they stood like that for some time, the rays of the sun penetrating through the trees to bathe them in golden light. Suddenly, they heard a voice from the direction of the palace. It was Landir.

"Legolas? Legolas? Where are you?" They could hear sounds of him coming through the woods. Alarien stepped back, away from Legolas, though keeping hold of one of his hands.

"We must separate," she whispered, "we cannot be seen together." Legolas nodded, and watched as she disappeared into the trees. He turned towards the sounds and called to his brother.

"Landir! I am here, what do you want of me?" He saw his brother emerging from the trees in front of him. He had a sour expression on his face and his eyes were bitter.

"Father wishes to see you before the competition begins. I don't know why, he just sent me to find you." Without another word, he turned and walked back the way he came. He had to get away from Legolas before the anger he was trying so hard to conceal overcame him. His elder brother watched him go, leaning comfortably against a tree, apparently lost in thought. Legolas was, indeed, very pensive. He was filled with happiness at the way things had turned out with Arwen, but it hurt him more than he cared to admit, that she was keeping something from him. How could they have a relationship that would be based on trust, if she was hiding things? He sighed. He was reading into it far too much, he should just be happy that they were together. And he certainly was happy. Every time he thought of her, it was as though she was standing before him, so vivid was the image. He could hear her voice, smell her sweet fragrance, and feel her warm hand in his. Smiling, he contemplated the fact that she was his, his own, his true love.

His perfect mouth still drawn into a smile, he walked back to the palace and was just entering the building when he heard the gong for lunch being struck.

Entering the hall, Legolas smiled as he saw Arwen talking with his father.

She turned as she saw him come in and returned his expression, the love she felt clearly visible, until she blushed and looked down. Legolas took the seat opposite her, next to his father, who watched proudly as his son sat down gracefully.

"My son, I want to wish you much luck in the first event today, not that you really need it, eh?" Legolas smiled indulgently at his father's words, and replied with a patient tone in his voice.

"Father, I'm sure I will need it. Winning the competition is never an easy task for anyone. Not even for me." He finished with a raise of his eyebrow. Thranduil laughed.

"Very diplomatic, Legolas. You certainly have the makings of a fine king."

This time it was Legolas who blushed, colour flooding his smooth, marble like face. Alarien smiled inwardly, this was a side to him she had not yet encountered, the humility and sweet modesty at his father's compliments were almost bashful. He caught her eye and smiled, not noticing the fact that his father was watching him.

Thranduil was pleasantly surprised. This was a far different Legolas than the one he had talked to the other day. He had also not failed to see the expression that filled his son's eyes, and it was the same thing that he could see in Arwen's. There was no mistaking it, he could feel it in the air around them: they seemed to emit a glow, an energy that made the very particles in the air vibrate. He was immensely pleased with the way things were going. The match that would certainly be ensured between them would unite Mirkwood infinitely more with Rivendell than ever before, and from what he had gathered from his conversations with her, Arwen would make a fine queen. Yes, Mirkwood would certainly flourish under their reign. He felt a pang of sadness and regret that he would not be there to see it, and a bitterness that he had had to rule alone these many years. But he passed the thought quickly out of his mind and concentrated on trying to perceive the depth of emotions that passed between the two young elves, smiling inside at the tiny, almost undetectable, glances that flew across the table. When the meal finished, Alarien left first and Legolas excused himself a couple of minutes later to prepare for the first event that was taking place that day. It was basic archery, not something he found hard, but he wanted to exercise his shoulder to ensure it would not ache after the event. Thranduil watched his son leave, marvelling at his good fortune.

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Alarien had only got halfway to her chamber before Legolas caught her up. He moved so silently she didn't hear him come up behind her, and jumped slightly as she felt his hands grab her gently round the waist, pulling her out of the main corridor and into a shadowy alcove. Before she could turn round, he had leaned down and whispered in her ear, his breath warm on her skin, before pulling her into a deep kiss. It was breathtaking in its intensity - he seemed to be wordlessly claiming her as his, imprinting the feel of his mouth on her lips, his warmth and strength washing over her in waves. The taste of him was heady; it sent heat and fire pulsing through her body from head to foot. She felt as if she were drowning in him and had no wish to be rescued. When they broke apart, she was breathing unsteadily and didn't feel very secure on her feet. She leant against him as she attempted to calm her rapidly beating heart. He tenderly kissed the top of her head then rested his forehead against hers, looking deep into her eyes. He smiled and then sighed; suddenly remembering where he had been intending to go before the urge to be close to her had overtaken him, took her hand and kissed the palm.

"Now I must go, for I must get my bow, and the competition starts soon. Oh, and by the way, my Lady, who were you intending on supporting?"

"Well, there was one elf I had my eye on." She replied, leaning up to kiss him briefly before turning and walking in the direction of her chamber.

Legolas watched her go, waiting for his own pulse to return to normal before going to his own room. As he walked, he didn't feel like his feet were actually making contact with the floor. He had loved several times in his long life, but never so strongly as now, Arwen was his true love, and his heart was hers to do as she wished with it. Picking up his quiver he made sure that it was full of his own arrows and retrieving his bow from where it lay propped up against the wall, he checked the tautness of the string. It if was not tight enough, the arrows would lose speed and power. Too tight, and it would be difficult to pull back. When he was satisfied that all was in order, he slung both bow and quiver over his shoulder and made his way to the small clearing behind the palace where the competition was being held. The palace staff had been busy that morning, setting up the canopies over the seats of the royal household.  Although the competition did not start for another half-hour, most of the spectators had already congregated. It seemed to Legolas that most of Mirkwood had turned out to watch and indeed they had. The competition was one of the highlights of the year, and not to be missed by anyone. Looking around, he saw the tent where the other competitors were preparing themselves. Landir could be seen, pacing around, his face set and stony. He turned as he saw Legolas enter the tent and flashed him a look of utter disgust. Legolas ignored the look and glanced around at the other competitors. There were many that competed every year, and several of his own friends whom he went over to greet, a smile gracing his face. There was Malgoral, an old friend of his whom he had seen little of recently, Felarond, his second cousin, and Karolas and Garlon, brothers whom he had known almost all of his life.

"Well hello, Legolas. It's been a long time since we saw you. What have you been doing with yourself?" Malgoral's handsome face was smiling as he saw Legolas approach. The prince returned his expression.

"I have been busy entertaining our guest." His eyes glazing over as he thought of Arwen, and Legolas could not help but smile as he remembered how he had been 'entertaining' the guest. He flushed as he saw his friends looking quizzically at him then laughed. "What?"

"Nothing. You just had an odd expression on your face." Felarond's eyebrow was arched in question as he looked at the prince, but he didn't wish to pry any further and with a look at the others that clearly stated 'change the subject', they dropped into easy conversation. From over his friends' shoulders, Legolas could see Gilendil, his main competitor along with Landir. He competed every year, but had never won. He was a stranger to these parts and no one really knew much about him. He was tall and well built, with a dark complexion and almost black hair. His eyes were an odd shade of brown, almost orange, with lighter flecks in the centre. The other competitors looked him upon with a kind of fearful respect, for he hardly ever spoke, except when directly questioned. Legolas, however, did not fear him. Indeed, in his opinion, all of the competitors were worthy winners, and in the end, the best elf would win.

A/N: Opinions please!