DISCLAIMER: I don't even own the computer this was written on. Why waste
your time suing me?
*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Placid, orangey mornings melting into engaging azure afternoons and violet evenings snapping from wine to music to tales characterized those fall days in Imladris. Though darkness loomed just over the horizon, for the moment, life was good, and everyone in the Last Homely House reveled in the alien peace. Legolas, so accustomed to passing day after draining day mindlessly firing arrows into a target and falling under the wrong end of his oldest brother's sword, had fallen into the beautiful rhythm of the largest library in Middle Earth. Arwen teased him about his love for books in her gently affectionate, older sister manner.
He would do anything to never leave Imladris again.
Since early that morning, Legolas had been stretched luxuriously on a balustrade on the balcony just outside the library. He had immersed himself in a very long, very complicated book about, for once, not military strategies, but the value of benevolent rulers.
He loved it; he wanted to commit every word in the text to memory, to make them a part of himself as if he had ingested them and they had seeped into his bloodstream. He wanted to take them back to the Great Wood with him, to make it Great once again, to make it like the stories his father had told of an evening before the roaring fires in the family room...
He wanted to share this peace with Thranduil- with his papa, not his king.
So immersed was he in the mentally engaging text that he did not hear the shuffling footsteps of a light person walking onto the balcony. Upon noticing that someone else had already claimed the balcony, Arwen gasped. This drew Legolas's attention, and, closing his book, he stood and bowed dramatically with a playful smile on his face. "Good afternoon, my lady."
"Highness," Arwen replied with a mock-curtsey. "I trust you are well?"
"Quite well, thank you. And you?"
Arwen crossed the balcony and perched on the balustrade beside where Legolas stood. Once she had sat, he reclaimed his seat and waited for her to speak. In all the centuries they had known one another, Legolas had learned the nuances of Arwen's personality. She only spoke when she wanted to, and often, asking her to divulge more information than she wished convinced her not to talk at all.
"I fear for my father," Arwen said softly. "He speaks to no one except Mithrandir and Glorfindel. He has closeted himself in his study with them; he will not admit me or Estel."
"Grave matters plague Lord Elrond's mind."
Arwen said, "Aye..."
"Arwen..."
"Father used to sneak away from parties to watch the stars," Arwen said softly, allowing herself to disregard the formality of addressing his father as lord. After all, Legolas was practically family.
The other Elf smiled; he could remember those gatherings when, late at night, as he sat with his brothers and the twins at one end of the High Table, he had watched Lord Elrond slip onto the balcony, watched the moon shimmer off his dark hair. To one as young as Legolas, it had seemed almost unreal; Elrond possessed a sort of camaraderie with the night, with the stars, and the moon, the beauty of it all. "I remember."
Arwen whispered, "He told me once, when I was quite young, that he was speaking to his father... that I could do the same, if ever I was frightened during the night, and that he would protect me from harm. It was many years before I learned and understood the tale of Earendil."
"Father says that those who have gone before us are always with us, though we are not always aware of it," Legolas replied, hoping to give Arwen some comfort. She certainly was in a pensive mood that afternoon.
"Then why do you seek comfort in the solitude, my friend?"
Legolas closed his eyes and smiled sadly, a wave of melancholy crashing over his youthful face. "I learned long ago that the King is not omnipotent." He turned his eyes back to the sky, to the slowly blossoming moon on the horizon. Laughing bitterly, he shook his head. "Is it treason, Arwen? Have I spoken treason against my own father, or have I done his kingdom a service by mentioning his weaknesses?"
"Can an act of treason benefit a kingdom?" Arwen mused.
"Voicing a dissenting opinion would likely help people in the long run by forcing the King to examine a different perspective."
"But would this denote weakness in the King's Council?"
"Does it not denote the King's self-confidence? By allowing those closest to him to question his decisions, does he not show his people that his primary concern is their welfare and not his own power?"
Arwen was deeply impressed by this rhetoric. Because Legolas seldom spoke, even his friends easily forgot his earth-shattering intelligence. "My father holds this belief."
"Then the King disagrees," Legolas murmured. "In three thousand years, I don't think our fathers have ever agreed."
Arwen chuckled. "I can't recall their dinnertime conversations ever not deteriorating into a screaming fight."
"King Thranduil does not scream."
"Oh, yes, he does," Arwen said with a slight shudder.
"He does not. I know my own father, Undomiel, and he does not scream. He may raise his voice, but-"
"Well, in Elrond's house, we call that screaming."
Legolas sighed again and curled his legs beneath him. Despite the height, he was quite comfortable. He had slept contentedly in higher trees. "How long has it been since you last saw the twins?"
Arwen allowed the sidetrack and said, "It's been... They passed winter here last year, but I had only just returned from Caras Galadhron, and I was quite occupied."
"You sat down and spoke to them?"
"To Elrohir," Arwen replied. "You know that no one can sit down and speak to Elladan. We had conversations while we rode."
"To where did you ride?"
A little shamefacedly, Arwen said, "I could not tell you. Elladan just led me through the countryside, along the Bruinen... It truly is beautiful in the winter... And then, he sparred the horse to a gallop and made me think I was lost in the middle of nowhere!"
Legolas laughed.
"Yes, I'm sure it's quite amusing- to you!" Arwen's glare fixed on him, chastising him into silence.
"Oh, I apologize, my lady, but you look... you look exactly like Lord Celeborn when you are angry, and..."
"I hate you sometimes."
"Yes, my lady."
"Oh, go climb a tree," Arwen grumbled.
Legolas just laughed. After a moment, Arwen could no longer help herself and joined in the mirth. "Darling Undomiel," Legolas said, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Even when you try to be insulting, you only manage to amuse me."
"I wish you could stay here," Arwen sighed. "Father will send Estel East with the Ringbearer... You will go home... And I will remain here- alone."
"Your brothers will-"
Shaking her head sadly, Arwen said, "Perhaps they will come, but they will not stay for long. Elrohir will beg Elladan for an extra week, maybe two, but before the ground thaws, they will return to the Rangers."
"They care for you, Arwen. So does your father."
"I know," Arwen said. "In my heart, I know."
"I care for you, too."
"I know that, you daft boy."
"And... Estel..."
"Legolas-"
"You are his world, Arwen."
Slightly uncomfortable to be discussing something so personal with a male- no matter how close he was, he was still 'one of them.' Only Elrohir had transcended the gender gap in her mind. But Legolas knew Estel. A little hesitantly, she said, "I know."
"Well, then, you silly girl, what are you worried about?"
When she looked back at him, a true smile sprang to her lips as she pictured herself standing beside her husband, together watching the White City come to life with the sun.
"I don't know," she whispered, and she covered his hand with hers as the sun languidly dropped below the horizon.
*-*-*-*-*-* Reviews will be greatly appreciated.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Placid, orangey mornings melting into engaging azure afternoons and violet evenings snapping from wine to music to tales characterized those fall days in Imladris. Though darkness loomed just over the horizon, for the moment, life was good, and everyone in the Last Homely House reveled in the alien peace. Legolas, so accustomed to passing day after draining day mindlessly firing arrows into a target and falling under the wrong end of his oldest brother's sword, had fallen into the beautiful rhythm of the largest library in Middle Earth. Arwen teased him about his love for books in her gently affectionate, older sister manner.
He would do anything to never leave Imladris again.
Since early that morning, Legolas had been stretched luxuriously on a balustrade on the balcony just outside the library. He had immersed himself in a very long, very complicated book about, for once, not military strategies, but the value of benevolent rulers.
He loved it; he wanted to commit every word in the text to memory, to make them a part of himself as if he had ingested them and they had seeped into his bloodstream. He wanted to take them back to the Great Wood with him, to make it Great once again, to make it like the stories his father had told of an evening before the roaring fires in the family room...
He wanted to share this peace with Thranduil- with his papa, not his king.
So immersed was he in the mentally engaging text that he did not hear the shuffling footsteps of a light person walking onto the balcony. Upon noticing that someone else had already claimed the balcony, Arwen gasped. This drew Legolas's attention, and, closing his book, he stood and bowed dramatically with a playful smile on his face. "Good afternoon, my lady."
"Highness," Arwen replied with a mock-curtsey. "I trust you are well?"
"Quite well, thank you. And you?"
Arwen crossed the balcony and perched on the balustrade beside where Legolas stood. Once she had sat, he reclaimed his seat and waited for her to speak. In all the centuries they had known one another, Legolas had learned the nuances of Arwen's personality. She only spoke when she wanted to, and often, asking her to divulge more information than she wished convinced her not to talk at all.
"I fear for my father," Arwen said softly. "He speaks to no one except Mithrandir and Glorfindel. He has closeted himself in his study with them; he will not admit me or Estel."
"Grave matters plague Lord Elrond's mind."
Arwen said, "Aye..."
"Arwen..."
"Father used to sneak away from parties to watch the stars," Arwen said softly, allowing herself to disregard the formality of addressing his father as lord. After all, Legolas was practically family.
The other Elf smiled; he could remember those gatherings when, late at night, as he sat with his brothers and the twins at one end of the High Table, he had watched Lord Elrond slip onto the balcony, watched the moon shimmer off his dark hair. To one as young as Legolas, it had seemed almost unreal; Elrond possessed a sort of camaraderie with the night, with the stars, and the moon, the beauty of it all. "I remember."
Arwen whispered, "He told me once, when I was quite young, that he was speaking to his father... that I could do the same, if ever I was frightened during the night, and that he would protect me from harm. It was many years before I learned and understood the tale of Earendil."
"Father says that those who have gone before us are always with us, though we are not always aware of it," Legolas replied, hoping to give Arwen some comfort. She certainly was in a pensive mood that afternoon.
"Then why do you seek comfort in the solitude, my friend?"
Legolas closed his eyes and smiled sadly, a wave of melancholy crashing over his youthful face. "I learned long ago that the King is not omnipotent." He turned his eyes back to the sky, to the slowly blossoming moon on the horizon. Laughing bitterly, he shook his head. "Is it treason, Arwen? Have I spoken treason against my own father, or have I done his kingdom a service by mentioning his weaknesses?"
"Can an act of treason benefit a kingdom?" Arwen mused.
"Voicing a dissenting opinion would likely help people in the long run by forcing the King to examine a different perspective."
"But would this denote weakness in the King's Council?"
"Does it not denote the King's self-confidence? By allowing those closest to him to question his decisions, does he not show his people that his primary concern is their welfare and not his own power?"
Arwen was deeply impressed by this rhetoric. Because Legolas seldom spoke, even his friends easily forgot his earth-shattering intelligence. "My father holds this belief."
"Then the King disagrees," Legolas murmured. "In three thousand years, I don't think our fathers have ever agreed."
Arwen chuckled. "I can't recall their dinnertime conversations ever not deteriorating into a screaming fight."
"King Thranduil does not scream."
"Oh, yes, he does," Arwen said with a slight shudder.
"He does not. I know my own father, Undomiel, and he does not scream. He may raise his voice, but-"
"Well, in Elrond's house, we call that screaming."
Legolas sighed again and curled his legs beneath him. Despite the height, he was quite comfortable. He had slept contentedly in higher trees. "How long has it been since you last saw the twins?"
Arwen allowed the sidetrack and said, "It's been... They passed winter here last year, but I had only just returned from Caras Galadhron, and I was quite occupied."
"You sat down and spoke to them?"
"To Elrohir," Arwen replied. "You know that no one can sit down and speak to Elladan. We had conversations while we rode."
"To where did you ride?"
A little shamefacedly, Arwen said, "I could not tell you. Elladan just led me through the countryside, along the Bruinen... It truly is beautiful in the winter... And then, he sparred the horse to a gallop and made me think I was lost in the middle of nowhere!"
Legolas laughed.
"Yes, I'm sure it's quite amusing- to you!" Arwen's glare fixed on him, chastising him into silence.
"Oh, I apologize, my lady, but you look... you look exactly like Lord Celeborn when you are angry, and..."
"I hate you sometimes."
"Yes, my lady."
"Oh, go climb a tree," Arwen grumbled.
Legolas just laughed. After a moment, Arwen could no longer help herself and joined in the mirth. "Darling Undomiel," Legolas said, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Even when you try to be insulting, you only manage to amuse me."
"I wish you could stay here," Arwen sighed. "Father will send Estel East with the Ringbearer... You will go home... And I will remain here- alone."
"Your brothers will-"
Shaking her head sadly, Arwen said, "Perhaps they will come, but they will not stay for long. Elrohir will beg Elladan for an extra week, maybe two, but before the ground thaws, they will return to the Rangers."
"They care for you, Arwen. So does your father."
"I know," Arwen said. "In my heart, I know."
"I care for you, too."
"I know that, you daft boy."
"And... Estel..."
"Legolas-"
"You are his world, Arwen."
Slightly uncomfortable to be discussing something so personal with a male- no matter how close he was, he was still 'one of them.' Only Elrohir had transcended the gender gap in her mind. But Legolas knew Estel. A little hesitantly, she said, "I know."
"Well, then, you silly girl, what are you worried about?"
When she looked back at him, a true smile sprang to her lips as she pictured herself standing beside her husband, together watching the White City come to life with the sun.
"I don't know," she whispered, and she covered his hand with hers as the sun languidly dropped below the horizon.
*-*-*-*-*-* Reviews will be greatly appreciated.