Tournament at Rivendell

It was a fair day at Rivendell, with bright sun and brisk breeze upon the great meadow spread below the Last Homely House like an amphitheatre. A long rectangle had been laid out and enclosed by barriers (or lists), and on either side of it, rising up grassy banks, were numerous tented pavilions. Colourful pennants and flags flew from each, and the dress of the multitude of Elves who had come to view the spectacle was equally festive, all greens and gold. Guests there were, too, in the more muted colours of Gondor and Rohan, and even a visiting ambassador from Rhun, conspicuous in elaborate robes of red. Everywhere the bright metal of armour met and dazzled the eye.

Four splendid heralds bore their trumpets to the opposite ends of the lists, two and two, guarding the gates, ready to summon the bold young warriors to the jousts. To the unvoiced disappointment of some, Lord Elrond had issued strict orders that there was to be no question of deadly force today; all lances were to be blunted. Nonetheless, no-one expected that everyone would escape scatheless. The rules enjoined that no targets might be struck save the opponent's shield or his protective helmet; the bodies of both horses and men were off limits, and striking either one meant that the offender lost the combat. Yet mistakes were often made and knights often badly hurt even in the mildest version of the games.

None of this deterred the eager warriors arming themselves in one of the pavilions. Here were Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond's famed sons, assisting each other and trading brotherly insults. Here was Haldir, prominently wearing the Lady Galadriel's favour, and eager to uphold the honour of his Lorien home. Here was Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, proud and warlike. Here was Ecthelion, Lord Steward of Gondor, who had consented to take a turn with the younger men for the sake of the White Tree. Many more there were of power and renown.

Legolas arrived late on his long journey from Mirkwood. He barely stopped at the refreshment tent before proceeding to one of the heralds, announcing his name and rank, and requesting to be placed late in the proceedings so that his tired horse might rest. So it was that Legolas armed himself a little later than the rest and did not at first see Elrond's foster-son, Aragorn (known to his foster-family as "Estel"), with whom he had had such an unfortunate encounter in Mirkwood. Aragorn had slipped away from the pavilion on another errand.

The centre of all eyes, Elrond's pavilion was graced with a large throne set atop a podium. As Legolas watched, Elrond's daughter Arwen appeared in company with her father and Galadriel. She dropped quick curtsey to Galadriel and appeared to be pleading with her to sit on the throne, but Galadriel laughed and pushed Arwen gently to take the seat. Then Galadriel herself picked up the waiting garlands of flowers and arranged them around Arwen's form before crowning her with a simple gold coronet. At Elrond's sign, a trumpet sounded and proclamation was made: Arwen was declared the Queen of Beauty and Honour for the tourney.

The knights, armed and unarmed, all hastened forward to make their obeisance before her. Judging by the flush of her cheeks, a few of them had a little too much to say as they did. Legolas, amused, hung back until the crowd was largely gone and then strode forward, head bared and golden hair blazing in the sunlight. He bowed. "Cousin Arwen, it pleases me to see you looking so well."

She laughed and answered, "And you also, my old playmate. It has been many years, has it not, since we chased each other under the mallorn trees in Lorien, upon your father's infrequent visits to my grandmother's court. Tell me, how goes it with Thranduil and the Greenwood?"

Legolas made some short answer, but he sensed she was distracted and, following a flicker of her eyes, he saw that her gaze had fallen on the obnoxious young man he had fought in Mirkwood; a man, he realized now from the livery, who must be her foster brother.

"Is that Estel?" he asked.

"Yes, I know him but little," replied Arwen. He has never visited me at my grandmother's court. But you must call him Aragorn now, as we all do. He is an acknowledged descendant of the ancient thrones of Gondor and Arnor, though I am told he makes no claim until he has proven himself."

"Very honourable," replied Legolas drily. "He looks too young to lay claim to anything."

Arwen smiled. Aragorn was approaching the throne so Legolas walked away, acknowledging the young man with a curt nod.

Aragorn clearly saw nothing but Arwen. He clanked down awkwardly to one knee in his armour, saying "Hail to you, Queen of Beauty. Will you do me the inestimable honour of allowing me to wear your favour as I fight?"

"My favour is not free," replied Arwen in a slightly chilly tone. "It must be bought by deeds." She unbent with a slight smile. "If you are victorious this day, I will consider it, sir. And in the meantime, I wish you well."

Though he deemed it likely she had said the same to many other suppliants that day, Aragorn accepted her words, rose to his feet and bowed his head, unruly locks flapping in the breeze. Legolas, standing not far apart, regarded him thoughtfully. He had, at least, behaved with perfect courtesy.

The blast of a herald's trumpet interrupted his thoughts. The tourney was beginning.

There was much bravery and martial skill on display that day. Elladan and Elrohir were not only the hosts, but they took on all comers (or as many as were willing to risk themselves against the dauntless brothers). Even Aragorn broke a lance against Elladan, striking him squarely in the centre of his shield and causing him to shake and nearly fall from his horse. Immediately afterwards, Aragorn playfully accused his foster brother of sparing him his full force, but Elladan admitted ruefully to Elrohir in private that it was not so: that their youngster was truly become a man and had shaken Elladan in his saddle in good earnest. "He has the advantages of a mortal man; he is heavier and sits more securely," Elladan said.

Legolas, though weary of feats of arms from his defensive duties in Mirkwood, nonetheless acquitted himself admirably, shattering three lances against three noted warriors without being unseated himself. Only Aragorn had also escaped the pain and shame of a heavy fall to the ground. Legolas' shield arm was tired and bruised, and he did not wish to tax his horse much further, so he decided to tilt only one more time. He looked over at Aragorn, who was once again gazing at Arwen with calf's eyes, as he had been all day.

"Wilt joust with me, young sir?"

"With all good will, Prince Legolas."

Within a few minutes, the heralds at either end of the lists blew their signal, and as they opened the gates to allow the combatants to rush forth, all the company turned to look. It was a glorious sight – both excellent horsemen, both skilled in the management of their heavy lances. For a moment it looked as if it would be fully equal; as though with their great speed they would each sweep the other to the ground, or else each survive the impact and ride on unscathed. But it was not to be; as they met, Aragorn's blunted lance slipped sideways and shoved upon Legolas' shield and then landed in a mighty blow upon the Elf's mid-section. Had the lances been sharp, it would have been a death-blow. As it was, Legolas flew backwards through the air and alighted amidst a ghastly sound of crumpling metal. He lay there, terrifyingly still, as Aragorn dismounted and ran to him, tearing off helmet and gauntlets as he went.

The young man freed Legolas from his helmet, finding him unconscious. "Nay, Legolas, do not die!" Aragorn exclaimed. Behind him, he was vaguely aware of Arwen shouting for Elrond, who was by far the most accomplished healer in Elvendom. "Do not die," Aragorn begged again. He reached tentatively to the Elf's neck, and was rewarded with a reassuringly strong pulse. The Elf's blue eyes opened.

"I am not dead," he remarked. "I am not even harmed." He was belied by the groan with which he pushed himself to a sitting position. But he held out an arm to his erstwhile foe. They grasped each other's shoulders and managed to get Legolas to his feet. Looking Aragorn directly in the eye, Legolas reached for and wrung his hand in a warm clasp. "You did well," he said.

"Legolas, how do you fare? Are you hurt?" Arwen had arrived beside them.

"Fear not, sweeting," he replied. "Perhaps I will rest tomorrow instead of taking part in the rest of the games. But that is all." He smiled. "Give him his bauble, Arwen. He has earned it."

"It is no bauble and you know it, Legolas," Arwen retorted. But her hand went to the Evenstar around her neck. She turned to Aragorn and said gravely, "Elrond thinks you deserve this, and so does Legolas. And I…" she blushed slightly and looked away. "I agree with them."

"No, my lady, I have deserved nothing. I broke the rules shamefully. If disaster was averted, it was none of my doing…"

"Hush, Estel," she said. "I desire that you will wear this my favour for the rest of the tourney, and then fail not to return it to me – unharmed, like yourself – at the dinner-hour tomorrow." He shook his head helplessly, and as he bowed to her, she fastened the Evenstar around his neck.

"You do me far greater honour than I merit," he told her, but his eyes were full of joy and wonder, and when they exchanged smiles, Legolas might as well have been in another country.

And so it came to pass that Legolas had even more opportunity to observe Aragorn for the remainder of the tournament, and to come to the conclusion that, not so very surprisingly after all, the young man was worthy of his respect and his liking. And when Aragorn appeared at his bedside and they fell to talking for the first time, it became equally apparent that the respect and liking was returned.