So there’s a whole story behind the writing of this one. If you don’t care, you can feel free to skip the below paragraph.

Even though Legolas/Aragorn friendship stories tend to be my favorites, as I was rereading LotR a while ago I realized that there’s no indication I could find that suggested they knew each other before the Council. And besides, I like to go against the grain, so I wanted to write something in which they were strangers. Then I noticed that one line, the first thing Aragorn is recorded saying to Legolas: How came the folk of Thranduil to fail in their trust? And so instead of strangers, I decided Legolas wouldn’t like Aragorn very much. And then the whole Arwen thing kinda appeared on its own and so it evolved to what it is now.

I have also written this same piece from Arwen’s point of view, which I will submit as a second chapter soon after this is posted.

*******************************

His first words to me expressly cast doubt on the trustworthiness and loyalty of my people.

“How came the folk of Thranduil to fail in their trust?”

He knows so little of us and yet is so flagrantly slandering us. He is known by elvish names, speaks our languages fluently, and was raised by elves. Yet he is not an elf. He seems to forget that fact at times. Who is he to cast judgement on a people he is not one of? Granted, the Imladris elves consider him practically one of their own. But it was not the Imladris elves that bore the brunt of his anger. And there is no possible way that he might be considered in a position to say such things about the elves of Mirkwood, with whom he has spent collectively no more than a few weeks of his entire life.

I admit that I am suspicious of him. Not that I think him a traitor in the usual sense of the word, nor that I believe him to be anything other than what he is said to be. Rather, I am suspicious that he will disappoint all who have placed so much faith in him. He holds much power even now, for he is the hope of most and loved by many. I know lord Elrond well enough to know that he would do nearly anything for his sons, one of which is this Man. The same may be said of the dedication of Elladan and Elrohir to their adoptive brother. And Arwen…

She was to be mine. Almost from the moment she was born, her parents and mine had the idea that she and I would marry. We did become close and I did begin to court her as a potential lover rather than a friend. But she denied me, saying that though we were happy together, she believed there was supposed to be something more. I did not pressure her but kept my distance and my love, certain that she would return to me. She did not. And now she accepts the attentions of this human rather than mine.

This is not the source of my misgivings; I do love Arwen and wish the best for her. And I am not saying that I would be better for her than this Man. I simply believe there is someone better than he that she could find. Better than a human who is arrogant and takes advantage of his position.

The soft sound of fabric rustling indicates that someone is approaching my room. I stand, and the Lady of Imladris herself appears in my doorway. I, however, only see the childhood friend who aided me with stealing treats from the kitchens centuries ago, and the woman who has held my heart ever since that time.

She smiles in that special way that only she can and speaks. “Mae govannen, my old friend.”

“Suilad, Arwen,” I return, smiling the best I can. She has always been able to see through me, however.

“Legolas, what is wrong?”

Her smile fades somewhat. I glance at the ground, but when I do not see the words I am supposed to say written there, I return my eyes to hers. “I was thinking of you when you came in.”

The smile returns. “Truly? Anything in particular come to mind? Or were you just contemplating how generally ugly I am?”

It was that merry sparkle in her eyes that I had fallen in love with her for. “Oh, the latter, of course, my lady. What else could anyone think of you?”

She gives a short, bright laugh, then sighs. I remember my manners.

“Please sit, Arwen. And tell me, why have you decided to grace me with your presence?”

After we have both taken seats, she grows serious. “Legolas, do you still consider me a friend?”

“Ai, Arwen. You know I wish you to be more than that. But if you do not wish the same, I still shall honor you as a friend.”

She seems somewhat startled at this, then hangs her head. “I did not know that your feelings remained unchanged. If I had known as much, I should not have come.”

How could it be that she believed I had changed towards her? I suppose it has been long since we spoke of these matters. Now I think of it, have we spoken of this since she met the human? No, it was even before that.

I have not the time to calculate such things at the moment, however. Arwen seems very uncomfortable, trying to decide whether she should leave or stay.

“Just tell me, Arwen,” I finally say. “What is it?”

She looks at me and starts speaking. “If you truly do still love me, what I am about to ask of you shall put you in a very uncomfortable position. If you do not wish for this, I will not ask it of you.”

Suddenly realization comes upon me. “You wish me to protect the human.”

She pushes a lock of her hair behind her shoulders, then gazes at the floor. “His name is Aragorn, Legolas.”

“I know. And he is a human.”

She looks up sharply. “I know. And he is a warrior, not to mention my betrothed. Do those traits not merit at least the respect of using his name rather than his race?”

“From what I have seen, he does not merit that respect.”

“And how long have you known him? A few hours? Maybe a day? I have known him six decades…”

“And perhaps that simply means he has had more time to decieve you…”

“Legolas!”

“No, Arwen, I shall speak my part…”

“NO!”

I have not heard her raise her voice like that since we were children. Then I realize the level my own voice must have been at to warrant her speaking like that. There is a long silence as we gather ourselves. But she needs to hear of my doubts. I speak softly. “Arwen, he shall be King of Men one day, and this fact has made him arrogant. He does not deserve you or the kingdom.”

“You are speaking out of selfishness and wounded pride. I love him, Legolas, though you cannot accept it. Do you believe that if you speak ill of him, that fact will change and I shall accept you instead?”

“No. I am merely conveying my observations of him. I do not have any remaining hopes concerning you and me, though my love for you remains. I do, however, believe that he does not deserve you.”

Arwen sits back in her chair and gazes at me. I hold her gaze until she speaks. “You do not assume the worst in anybody, so he must have done something to generate these doubts of yours.”

I smile half-heartedly. “Do you mean something other than intending to marry the woman I have loved all my life?”

“Yes.” She is quick to respond. “Yes, I do mean other than that.”

Her eyes are still upon me, but I can no longer keep mine upon her. She has already accused me of being selfish and prideful; if I reveal the true source of my misgivings, I shall sound even more petty. But her eyes are relentless and she knows me too well to let me get away with lying or concealing the truth.

So all I can do is explain to the best of my ability.

“You know how difficult it is for us who are from Mirkwood to gain the respect of those who are not. We are considered uncouth, uncivilized, and disorganized. Generally we care not; we have larger issues to deal with than gossip. But every once in a while… it simply becomes too much. He slandered us outright, Arwen. Directly to me, and using my father’s name, he declared us to be failing in our trust in the presence of the greatest lords in Middle-Earth. And I am called upon to aid the Ring-bearer in his quest – and I shall do it – but in the company of that man? Aragorn?”

The name does not come easily to my tongue, for some reason. My eyes drop once again. “The Valar seem to have a malicious sense of humor.”

Arwen softly rises from her chair. I lean forward so that my elbows are on my knees and I may hide my face between my shoulders, as well as with my hands. She kneels in front of me, gently removing my hands from my face and clasping them between her own.

“I cannot ease the pain you must be experiencing. But I have always loved you, Legolas, even if it was not in the manner in which you wished it to be. And right now you are my only option. My only hope. You are the only Elf in the Fellowship and the only one I can depend upon. Please, Legolas.”

I let my eyes venture to hers and notice her tears. I had always hated seeing her cry. She was too beautiful for as simple a thing as water to be allowed to mar her eyes, causing them to become red and swollen, or for anything but her natural radiant smile to grace her perfect lips. I grasp her hands tightly. My voice is not as clear as it usually is.

“You wish me to protect your love, then?”

Arwen blinks hard, once, squeezing out two more horrible tears, and nods.

“Then I shall do so – with my own life – if you grant me one request.”

A sigh of relief, then the inevitable question: “What do you wish for?”

I feel tears forming in my own eyes as I speak my wish to her: “Let me only kiss your tears away, just this once, my love.”

She nods.

*******************

I can’t decide whether to continue this, following the Fellowship as Legolas and Aragorn get to know each other, or if it’s better as a one-shot. Please tell me which you would prefer!