TITLE: For the King

FANDOM: Lord of the Rings

PAIRINGS: Aragorn/Legolas

NOTES: writers_choice: Love, loyalty and friendship.

I had difficulty picking a fandom for this challenge, but settled with Elven romance. There are switching POVS here, one for each aspect of the challenge: Arwen, Outsider and Legolas.

I knew love once.

What strange words, you say, how odd. For the Queen loves the King surely, dearly, passionately. How could she not - see him stand, see him rule! What woman could not love him?

I, Arwen of Rivendell, cannot love him.

Once upon a yesteryear, when war was story-bound and he was but a young and foolish mortal, I allowed myself to fall. He was human, exciting, different – so removed from the ceremony and formality of Elves, yet graceful and knowledgeable and full of Elven spirit.

Now he stands among Men, worn in a way only I can see. Nay, I deceive myself, another sees as well, but he keeps his words behind his tongue. It matters not – Mirkwood keeps him far away, and Aragorn is bound to Gondor, so tightly it would seem chains of mithril wove his hands to her foundations.

He thinks only of his city now, his Men, and the one that lies in Mirkwood. He does not even know he has forgotten, but I no longer see the light of love in his eyes for me. I am but a symbol now.

And as I realised what had left, so my own heart grew cold and I knew nothing but burning envy. Soon, that too faded, and now, without emotion, I know what I must do.

Rising from my bed, I take the carefully prepared sack. Eowyn of Rohan has prepared me well, her own clothes used as my own. She did not wish to see me leave, but now she understands though ne’er truly. Her Faramir rotates the world, and there is naught but stars in both their eyes. Foolish mortals.

My bedroom is not far from the stables, and my passage is unheeded. With speed, I mount my horse and ride for the gates. People will wonder, but let them wonder – the Evenstar will not be kept at court, she will find her own destiny.

Love only hinders destiny.

~

I see many things, more than I should, and it troubles me. For lies and secrets lurk in shadow, and Gondor is no longer a place of shadow. Yet still they require me and my fealty, my devotion.

When Denethor ruled here, I had little work – few messages left Minas Tirith, fewer returned. Boromir tested my patience, with women nestled in every nook Gondor could provide. Many secrets were spun for him, none were broken. Faramir troubles me not – he wears his honesty like a shield, and it has yet to splinter on him. For their sins, they did well; no lies told that were not reasoned, no mistellings without guidance.

But a Royal Secretkeeper is another matter. Enter the monarchy, and suddenly I am called for at all hours, for this message and that, for binding spells here and there. All royal secrets lie safe in Gondor.

It is not the King, not often, for he is a man of honesty much like Faramir, and that is no fault. Yet still letters fly from Minas Tirith, all the miles to Mirkwood and back, cloaked in secrecy, hidden from view.

The Evenstar prefers her own magics, but she used them not tonight. For I see all from my window, and her horse just fled the gates. What chaos on the ‘morrow, what scandal! No secret woven into time can mask such brazen action, and what now?

I remain loyal to the crown, to Gondor. Secrets spun in dark places will never surface – but perhaps now Mirkwood’s letters will fly faster, and perhaps secrets will not remain so hidden.

We shall see.

~

I was woken by the calling birds and the wildly chattering trees: the Evenstar had returned to the forests.

I rose and rode forth within an hour of sun passage, and my father could not stop me. I knew my place in the new frantic world, and that place lay in Gondor. Three days ride and here I stand, the Gates of Minas Tirith open in welcome.

With haste, I move into the palace, greeted solemnly by servants I know well, and guided to where he stood, staring from a window in his hall.

“You didn’t have to come.”

He sounds weary, bitter, and I blame him not. I curse the Evil of the Evenstar, and move towards the Man who needs me. My hand settles on his shoulder, and he leans into the touch, sighing tiredly.

“You need me.”

“I have always needed you, Legolas.”

The words bite sharply, and I know not what I should say. I came here to offer the balm of friendship, companionship, truth. It seems he asks for more.

It is true, I have read his letters carefully, long moments devoted to the carefully-penned words and pondering the meaning of such sentiments: He misses me, he wishes for adventure, he thinks Arwen is drifting, he hopes I will not follow the Sea…

Yes, I know the heart of Aragorn just as I know my own. But I only offer comfort in uncertainty; I will not take advantage of a shattered heart.

“I am your friend, Aragorn. Let me aid you now.”

He hears all I leave unspoken, and turns to rest within my arms. Yes, Aragorn, I will stay and teach you friendship and loyalty and all she has failed to give you.

Then, perhaps, you will remember love.