Author's Notes:
Thanks to all of my reviewers!
====================================================
The night was cool and as clear as crystal when Arwen slipped away from the party and out into the misty forest groves. The trees were silent against the dark sky, with only the merest hint of a breeze to blow them. Arwen found shelter in a delicate white gazebo that overlooked the palace, and amidst the sounds of the quietly murmuring waterfalls she sat down to dream.
The party had been ruined for her, and the fault was with Legolas. As an elf, and for the span of her already long life, Arwen was no stranger to all emotions but after the dance she felt unsure if her newly awakened feelings were not already bordering on affection.
Not love, surely, though all the persistent rejection in the world on her part could not disguise the fact that wherever Arwen now looked she saw Legolas' handsome face staring at her through her mind's eye.
"Amin sintil mani hoonamin tyav aminkarn (I know not what my heart makes me feel)," she whispered, laying her hand on her chest.
- - -
Legolas, meanwhile, had returned from the Great Hall with one desire: to find Arwen. He could have excused his actions as due to a lack of better amusement, or perhaps that he wanted to be alone, but deep within he knew the real reason. He had become strangely attached to Arwen and wanted nothing better now than her gentle conversation to soothe his troubled mind.
He had seen her abandon the party for the solitude of the forest, and decided to follow. She went fast, and silently, but Legolas was a hunter and Arwen carried an unmistakable aura of enchantment that seemed to draw him naturally to her side. He found her in little time; she was half reclined on a bench upholstered in indigo velvet, her face turned toward the waterfalls and the moonlight tracing her profile with an iridescent glow.
She heard him approach and turned ever so slightly in his direction. For a moment she looked startled, and her dark eyes lingered questioningly on him as he came forward out of the shadow of the woods.
"Am I disturbing you?" she heard him ask.
"No." Arwen shrugged her shoulders up closer to her neck as he came to a stand at her left, his hands clasped behind his back. Unnervingly enough, her heart began to flutter like butterfly wings, and in a desperate effort to stop it she asked a practical and harmless question.
"Did you finally tire of the party?"
Legolas looked down at her and was struck by her luminescent eyes as they reflected the sky and became like two deep pools of velvet. A wuthering wind drifted seductively through the gardens and smoothed Arwen's dark curls away to expose her creamy white shoulders and the delicate curves of her neck and arms. Legolas felt his own pulse quicken to an impossible speed, and he made a conscious effort to respond to Arwen's question. Luckily it was a question that had been strangely popular that evening, and was not difficult to answer.
"My lord Elrond hosts the very best festivals - tonight I merely wished to be away from the press of the crowd." Legolas kept his gaze steadily on the distant waterfalls as he shifted militaristically on his feet.
Arwen smiled.
"But surely you would wish to stay and dance: I refuse to believe that there was no one with whom you could partner," she said gaily. Legolas glanced at her.
"There was no one with whom I wished to dance," he replied. "I found that there is more agreeable company to be found elsewhere."
This revelation made for a pause of distinct length; but Legolas, who had never felt the shame of cowardice or quandary certainly felt none now and was as at ease with himself as anyone laboring under such circumstances could possibly be. Arwen merely inclined her head and continued to study him in her silent contemplative way.
"I fear that I had little opportunity to inquire after your friend, the lady Arillen," said Legolas, "How is it that she fares, if I may be so bold to ask?"
"Arillen is biding well," Arwen replied, pleased not only that he had asked about her friend but that the abrupt change of topic provided a safe haven from any more discomforting pauses.
"I have not recently been to Lorien," Legolas continued, speaking of Arillen's homeland, "but I gather that nothing there is erring."
"The Golden Wood of Lorien is as beautiful as ever it was," Arwen sighed. "It has been some time since my last visit also, but I do know that our people there are no less concerned for - Middle Earth - than we, in light of recent events. No doubt you have been told of this?"
Legolas nodded, and a shadow passed over his face as he thought again of his home at Mirkwood and the dangers that they could possibly soon encounter with the enemy.
"But my friend Arillen was pleased to be invited to the festival," Arwen stated, "as I was for her, and rejoiced in our reunion - it has been many years since our last meeting."
With a small start Legolas realized that he was paying less attention to her words than he should have been, concentrating instead on her captivating beauty and the soothing sound of her voice. He blinked and turned away, angry that he could not stop watching her, that he could not seem to control his emotions around her suddenly. Some unnatural witchcraft was at work to turn a polite acquaintance into something deeper, Legolas felt.
"What is this magic?" he said softly to himself. Arwen heard him whisper and looked up expectantly.
"It was nothing," Legolas assured her, squaring his shoulders nonchalantly lest his thoughts betray him in his actions, and returned hastily to the last subject, "Surely you will be able to see the lady Arillen more often," merely to be polite.
Arwen shook her head regretfully. "I fear that it cannot be for the direct pass between Rivendell and Lorien is grown unsafe, and any route beyond and around the latter would take an interminable time. No; Arillen and I must not meet, and can only bide our time until the danger around us has passed."
Legolas came forward and knelt down in front of her, taking her hands.
"Time is changing, my lady," he said, "but where all seems to fail, somewhere there is always hope." Gently he reached up and brushed away a tear that hung in stasis on Arwen's trembling lashes.
Arwen did not know the reason for her crying and thought perhaps it was the night air that had caused her to become emotional, but as Legolas' skin touched hers she forgot everything. Suddenly she looked at her handsome cousin with new eyes.
He comforted her like a friend, and like a lover. Yet she had known him for centuries and there had never been more than cordial friendship between them. And yet, Arwen realized, she had never been given the chance to talk with Legolas - Legolas the elf, not the Prince - for she had always known him in a company and never individually. This sudden insight shocked her.
Arwen was too wise for hasty actions and words, and she kept silent as she looked searchingly into Legolas' blue eyes. Like she thought she had heard him say, there must have been magic in the air.
"Prince Legolas!"
The spell was broken abruptly as an elven messenger came running towards them through the forest. Legolas stood with a grim expression etched over his handsome features.
"Who calls me?"
The elf came to a halt in front of the gazebo and bowed to Arwen and then to Legolas before giving his message.
"The king Thranduil requires your presence in the Great Hall immediately," he stated. Legolas narrowed his eyes at him.
"Tell him that I will come," he said in a quiet and commanding tone. The messenger bowed again and left as quickly as he had come. Legolas turned back to Arwen.
"Forgive me, my lady, but I must attend to my father's call," he apologized. Arwen rose and extended her hand for him to kiss, which he did promptly.
"Perhaps I may see you tomorrow?" she inquired of him. Legolas nodded and replied that he hoped it would be so.
"Namaarie then, mellonamin," Arwen said with a smile.
"Namaarie."
Thanks to all of my reviewers!
====================================================
The night was cool and as clear as crystal when Arwen slipped away from the party and out into the misty forest groves. The trees were silent against the dark sky, with only the merest hint of a breeze to blow them. Arwen found shelter in a delicate white gazebo that overlooked the palace, and amidst the sounds of the quietly murmuring waterfalls she sat down to dream.
The party had been ruined for her, and the fault was with Legolas. As an elf, and for the span of her already long life, Arwen was no stranger to all emotions but after the dance she felt unsure if her newly awakened feelings were not already bordering on affection.
Not love, surely, though all the persistent rejection in the world on her part could not disguise the fact that wherever Arwen now looked she saw Legolas' handsome face staring at her through her mind's eye.
"Amin sintil mani hoonamin tyav aminkarn (I know not what my heart makes me feel)," she whispered, laying her hand on her chest.
- - -
Legolas, meanwhile, had returned from the Great Hall with one desire: to find Arwen. He could have excused his actions as due to a lack of better amusement, or perhaps that he wanted to be alone, but deep within he knew the real reason. He had become strangely attached to Arwen and wanted nothing better now than her gentle conversation to soothe his troubled mind.
He had seen her abandon the party for the solitude of the forest, and decided to follow. She went fast, and silently, but Legolas was a hunter and Arwen carried an unmistakable aura of enchantment that seemed to draw him naturally to her side. He found her in little time; she was half reclined on a bench upholstered in indigo velvet, her face turned toward the waterfalls and the moonlight tracing her profile with an iridescent glow.
She heard him approach and turned ever so slightly in his direction. For a moment she looked startled, and her dark eyes lingered questioningly on him as he came forward out of the shadow of the woods.
"Am I disturbing you?" she heard him ask.
"No." Arwen shrugged her shoulders up closer to her neck as he came to a stand at her left, his hands clasped behind his back. Unnervingly enough, her heart began to flutter like butterfly wings, and in a desperate effort to stop it she asked a practical and harmless question.
"Did you finally tire of the party?"
Legolas looked down at her and was struck by her luminescent eyes as they reflected the sky and became like two deep pools of velvet. A wuthering wind drifted seductively through the gardens and smoothed Arwen's dark curls away to expose her creamy white shoulders and the delicate curves of her neck and arms. Legolas felt his own pulse quicken to an impossible speed, and he made a conscious effort to respond to Arwen's question. Luckily it was a question that had been strangely popular that evening, and was not difficult to answer.
"My lord Elrond hosts the very best festivals - tonight I merely wished to be away from the press of the crowd." Legolas kept his gaze steadily on the distant waterfalls as he shifted militaristically on his feet.
Arwen smiled.
"But surely you would wish to stay and dance: I refuse to believe that there was no one with whom you could partner," she said gaily. Legolas glanced at her.
"There was no one with whom I wished to dance," he replied. "I found that there is more agreeable company to be found elsewhere."
This revelation made for a pause of distinct length; but Legolas, who had never felt the shame of cowardice or quandary certainly felt none now and was as at ease with himself as anyone laboring under such circumstances could possibly be. Arwen merely inclined her head and continued to study him in her silent contemplative way.
"I fear that I had little opportunity to inquire after your friend, the lady Arillen," said Legolas, "How is it that she fares, if I may be so bold to ask?"
"Arillen is biding well," Arwen replied, pleased not only that he had asked about her friend but that the abrupt change of topic provided a safe haven from any more discomforting pauses.
"I have not recently been to Lorien," Legolas continued, speaking of Arillen's homeland, "but I gather that nothing there is erring."
"The Golden Wood of Lorien is as beautiful as ever it was," Arwen sighed. "It has been some time since my last visit also, but I do know that our people there are no less concerned for - Middle Earth - than we, in light of recent events. No doubt you have been told of this?"
Legolas nodded, and a shadow passed over his face as he thought again of his home at Mirkwood and the dangers that they could possibly soon encounter with the enemy.
"But my friend Arillen was pleased to be invited to the festival," Arwen stated, "as I was for her, and rejoiced in our reunion - it has been many years since our last meeting."
With a small start Legolas realized that he was paying less attention to her words than he should have been, concentrating instead on her captivating beauty and the soothing sound of her voice. He blinked and turned away, angry that he could not stop watching her, that he could not seem to control his emotions around her suddenly. Some unnatural witchcraft was at work to turn a polite acquaintance into something deeper, Legolas felt.
"What is this magic?" he said softly to himself. Arwen heard him whisper and looked up expectantly.
"It was nothing," Legolas assured her, squaring his shoulders nonchalantly lest his thoughts betray him in his actions, and returned hastily to the last subject, "Surely you will be able to see the lady Arillen more often," merely to be polite.
Arwen shook her head regretfully. "I fear that it cannot be for the direct pass between Rivendell and Lorien is grown unsafe, and any route beyond and around the latter would take an interminable time. No; Arillen and I must not meet, and can only bide our time until the danger around us has passed."
Legolas came forward and knelt down in front of her, taking her hands.
"Time is changing, my lady," he said, "but where all seems to fail, somewhere there is always hope." Gently he reached up and brushed away a tear that hung in stasis on Arwen's trembling lashes.
Arwen did not know the reason for her crying and thought perhaps it was the night air that had caused her to become emotional, but as Legolas' skin touched hers she forgot everything. Suddenly she looked at her handsome cousin with new eyes.
He comforted her like a friend, and like a lover. Yet she had known him for centuries and there had never been more than cordial friendship between them. And yet, Arwen realized, she had never been given the chance to talk with Legolas - Legolas the elf, not the Prince - for she had always known him in a company and never individually. This sudden insight shocked her.
Arwen was too wise for hasty actions and words, and she kept silent as she looked searchingly into Legolas' blue eyes. Like she thought she had heard him say, there must have been magic in the air.
"Prince Legolas!"
The spell was broken abruptly as an elven messenger came running towards them through the forest. Legolas stood with a grim expression etched over his handsome features.
"Who calls me?"
The elf came to a halt in front of the gazebo and bowed to Arwen and then to Legolas before giving his message.
"The king Thranduil requires your presence in the Great Hall immediately," he stated. Legolas narrowed his eyes at him.
"Tell him that I will come," he said in a quiet and commanding tone. The messenger bowed again and left as quickly as he had come. Legolas turned back to Arwen.
"Forgive me, my lady, but I must attend to my father's call," he apologized. Arwen rose and extended her hand for him to kiss, which he did promptly.
"Perhaps I may see you tomorrow?" she inquired of him. Legolas nodded and replied that he hoped it would be so.
"Namaarie then, mellonamin," Arwen said with a smile.
"Namaarie."