Disclaimer: Hilrin, Falile, Arin, Fian, Eomai, Alei, Leinil, and Tilinae are all my inventions for this chapter and other chapters that they are in following. They do not belong to J.R.R Tolkein, and they have no reference to his stories. They are in here to get the story along.

AN: Thanks to everyone for your support and reviews...I don't know if I should continue up to Aragorn's pursuit of Gollum, or if I should start another story on that...Anyways, give me your opinion.

Chapter 10: The Tournament

For the next few days, Aragorn was miserable again. Haldir's stinging words had hit their intended mark, leaving Aragorn with a heavy heart. And, for some reason or other, he could not look at Arwen the same way. Deep down, he wondered what she felt for Haldir. He wondered if she had ever considered the surly elf's love above his. These thoughts fed upon everything, every memory of her and Haldir together, searching every detail for a sign to aid this suspicion.

And he began to avoid her. Avoid looking at her, talking to her if he could. Most accusing were her eyes, eyes that hid a wisdom in their blue gray depths. She watched him as intently as that old man did. He hid from her gaze, hoping that after awhile she would just understand and leave him alone. These feelings he could not explain. Last week he had been on top of the world, and she had been there with him. Now he felt crushed, as deep in dirt as a person could get.

All of Aragorn's confusion ended one day when he noticed a sign posted on the door of the Banquet Hall. It read:

"Any able-bodied man of stout heart and good skill wishing to

enlist for the Autumn Tournament may do so in the banquet hall.

The tournament will be held this day next week."

Aragorn thought for a moment and then dashed into the Banquet Hall. He joined the long que that had formed in front of a small table in the corner. Legolas ran up behind him, out of breath.

"You saw it too then?" Legolas huffed, holding his middle. They had just had lunch. And Legolas was known to have a weak stomach. Aragorn moved over a bit.

Legolas beamed. "I'm so excited!" he exclaimed, "Wait until the target shooting! And the javelin throwing! And the horse race! I used to watch this tournament when I was little, and I could not wait to be in it!"

Aragorn smiled. Legolas was a well known marksman, and though he had some skill with a blade, it was in the bow and arrow that his true talents were shown. Aragorn held out his hand. "Then I suppose it's good luck to you."

But Legolas wasn't looking at him. He was watching the elf holding the quill at the table. Aragorn turned to see Haldir with a long peice of parchment and a stony expression. Legolas looked at Aragorn. "Do you suppose that he will be in it too?" the elf asked, but they both knew the answer. They came to the front of the line rather quickly, and Haldir looked up at them obstinately. Legolas looked at the floor. Haldir rolled his eyes.

"I know your name. You don't have to tell me." He jotted down Legolas' name.

Legolas looked at Aragorn and slipped from the line. Aragorn was not to be so easily intimidated. He stepped up and stared Haldir in the eye. Haldir nodded, tight-lipped, and his quill danced across the page, pressing so hard that it almost tore the page. Aragorn watched as his name was printed. He cleared his throat, then turned and strode out. Legolas caught up with him outside the door. "I don't know why he's being so rude still...the whole issue is getting kind of old. I can barely remember what it was about in the first place."

Aragorn swallowed. He could.

The days leading up to the tournament were, of course, ones of great preparation for all of the elves. Eomai and his best friend Hilrin were often seen dueling with one another. Eomai was a skilled fighter indeed, but poor Hilrin was not as experienced with a blade. Eomai had insisted he practice, and Hilrin did his best, bless him, but he barely managed to escape with scrapes all over him. Legolas' distant cousin, Arin, was also very skilled with a bow, and Legolas and he spent hours practicing on any target that would stand still long enough.

Aragorn did practice, but with a good friend of his named Fian. Fian was quiet, but very easy to talk to. He was a wonderful listener, and Aragorn found it easy to communicate his problems. The slim brown-haired elf merely stared at him with wide green eyes, then slowly spoke his opinion on the matter. Despite his shy disposition, Fian was a ruthless warrior, his fair features always set with a determined look, his face scrunched up with concentration. Many of the other elves thought him aloof, when in reality, he was a compassionate soul. He loved poetry and art, and the peace and quiet of Imladris. Yet if there was a battle to be faced, Fian was always in the front line, brow furrowed in thought, planning out his defensive moves. Perhaps this was why Aragorn liked him so much as a companion, because he thought things over before deciding upon them.

Javelin throwing was hard for Aragorn, but, as every weapon did, it came naturally to Fian. However, Fian's horse was older than Aragorn's mare, Tilinae, and not nearly as well trained. Fian remarked with a straight face that he hoped his stallion did not simply bolt in rebellion during the race. Aragorn and Fian were about equal when it came to hitting the target, though Fian's bow was better made.

Yet in combat, Aragorn's favorite, they were very equally matched, both quick to think, and too stubborn to give up. Once when they were dueling, it was 4 hours before Fian surrendered, falling to the ground, exhausted. Aragorn, too weak to accept, crumpled beside him. Aragorn practiced long hours, preparing Tilinae, taking his sword to the smithy, replenishing his supply of arrows, tightening his bow, and finally sinking into bed at the end of a long day.

The day of the tournament finally arrived. Lord Elrond sat upon his magnificant throne, surrounded by his children and their servants. The tournament contestants filed out slowly with their gear, all nodding to the King of Rivendell, who agknowledged their presence one way or the other. Aragorn smiled at him, and, to his surpirse, Elrond smiled in return. Legolas bounced up and down behind him, impatient for the events to begin. Aragorn looked at Arin who nodded then dealt Legolas a swift blow in the stomach. Legolas doubled over. "I don't feel so good." he said, and immediatly there was at least five feet of empty space around him. He straightened up with a smirk. "Just kidding." he said mischeiviously, and his fan club (they were watching from the side) laughed shrilly.

Legolas rolled his eyes at Aragorn, but stopped when he saw the Lady Falile enter the arena, dressed in light blue velvet with white flowers embroidered on the skirt. Legolas watched in a trance, and Arin looked at Aragorn, who just shrugged, though he knew of Legolas' love for her. The beautiful dark-haired elf was sure to turn heads whenever she walked into the room. She was the reason Legolas had been courting so many different girls recently...he had hoped to make her jealous. Falile was good friends with Legolas, and though she sat in the group of giggly elves who stalked him, she appeared to have no interest in him as anything more than a friend. Lady Falile was a half sister of Arwen. Legolas had spent countless afternoons with her when Aragorn was out hunting with Haldir...

Aragorn looked around to see Haldir a few elves behind him, leading his horse, regarding the merriment around him with an expresionless countenance. Aragorn looked away, to watch as the first set of contestants set up their bows and quivers for target shooting. Legolas watched each elf intently. Elrond nodded to the conductor of the events, who signaled each elf to put the first arrow to their bowstring. Fian whispered to him that each contestant got to shoot 8 arrows. There were six red and white rings on the target, each worth so many points. Their points would be tallied at the end, and the winner would shoot against the winners of the other groups. There were 4 different rounds, each with a different group.

Eomai and Hilrin were in the first group. They drew back their arrows gracefully. The director waved his hand downward, and the arrows sung through the air in one swift movement, most hitting the target. The elves drew more arrows quickly, and barely had time to place them on the bows when the director's hand chopped downward again, forcing them to hastily let go. This time, not as many arrows made their way onto the target face. Yet the conductor was relentless, and again the contestants were unprepared. All but Hilrin. He was very ready every time the director's hand made that fluid motion. It was clear to everyone that he would win this round.

The end of the round brought victory to Hilrin, and everyone cheered. Eomai even clapped him on the back. Hilrin blushed, and Aragorn could see that what he lacked in skill with a sword, he made up for with his bow.

The next round included Legolas, Arin and himself. Not wanting to make the same mistake the first round elves had made, the three friends hastily set up their quiver, and had an arrow at the ready. The elf's hand flew down, and Aragorn fired. His arrow went into the middle circle. He had little time to celebrate before the signal was given again and he picked up yet another arrow and set it free, it's polished wood gleaming in the afternoon sun. This time it hit in the outermost circle. Aragorn, determined to do better, secured another to his bow, and at the director's hand chopping down, he pulled back and let go. The arrow hit in the middle once again, and Aragorn pulled another from his quiver. This one landed on the outermost circle. The rest of the arrows hit in the same place. Aragorn felt his heart sink, as the whistle that hailed the end of the round. The scores were tallied. Legolas had won.

Aragorn paid little attention to the next few groups, except the one that Fian was in. However, Fian did not win. An elf named Alei was the champion. Haldir won his round, and then that was the end. Now came the final round where all of the champions competed. Fian explained to Aragorn that even if one lost this round, their total points would be counted along with all of the other events, and they could still win the tournament as champion over all.

Aragorn watched as Hilrin, Alei, Legolas and Haldir took their places and prepared the first arrows. Then the conductor's hand again. Aragorn followed the round tensly. Legolas was obviously winning so far (all of his arrows were in the middle circle). Hilrin, however was not doing too badly. Yet when the whistle sounded, it was clear that Legolas was the winner. Everyone cheered, and Aragorn cheered with them, smiling as Legolas was born through the crowd to Lord Elrond's chair where he recieved a shining medal in that symbolized marksmanship.

The next event, Aragorn realized, was the horse racing. He had Tilinae saddled and ready to go. Fian's steed, Leinil, however, was skittishly prancing about, whinnying nervously. All of the elves were mounting their horses, the boys that were too young to race helped them. Aragorn stepped up and swung his leg over the saddle and sat upon Tilinae, who nickered. He patted her on the neck to calm her. Her brown coat felt like satin, and her black mane and tail were tied up in intricate braids. He walked her up to the starting line, and slowed to check the saddle and readjust anything that might be too loose or tight. But everything was fine. Her saddle was carved with beautiful images. Aragorn had recieved it as a gift not a year earlier.

Aragorn looked up into the looming forest. The course was long and hard, a winding path that he had taken many times with Legolas and Haldir when they were younger. They had raced each other along it, laughing at Legolas' failed attempts to cheat. Aragorn smiled to himself. Legolas had decided that he would take a shortcut through the forest and finish before them both. However, he got himself so lost that they had to go and find him.

Now, he realized, they would be racing each other again. This time though, this was not a childish game. There were secret obstacles that one had to face, and no one except Lord Elrond knew of them. But Aragorn had heard the elders speak once of false trails, and creatures that detered one's progress. There had never been any casualties, but there had been many injuries. Each racer was careful to bring a sword with him. Fian, however, had insisted on taking a small hatchet, which put Aragorn on his guard, and he carried one as well. The obstacles were harsh, and the path rough and unkempt.

The bell sounded for the horsemen to get in their places. Aragorn watched as the other riders filed into place, horses tossing their manes. Haldir whispered a soothing poem to his, and the steed stood still. Legolas' horse, Ildia, was very patient indeed, looking lazily at the prancing and stomping chaos around him. Fian was ready, but Leinil reared and stomped as though he were being forced to the executioner's block. Unlike with the target shooting, all of the contestants went together in a group.

For a moment, there was silence. Then the bell clanged and they were off.

Phew! That took a lot. I've decided to divide the tournament into a few chapters for convenience to all. Anyways, review please.