The Practise of Diffidence

DISCLAIMER: I regret to inform you that I do not own anything from the Lord of the Rings Books or Films. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

 
A/N: Thank you all so very much for reviewing myry. ry. I am so glad you like it!

 
The Practise of Diffidence.

 
Part Three.

 
By, Demetria.

 
* * * * *

 
Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Elrond and Queen of Gondor swept quickly down the marble corridors that led to the royal apartments. If truth be told, she was rather bewildered by the flustered expression of the young maid who had told her that the King was expecting her in his chambers. Aragorn really shouldn’t be upsetting the servants, she thought in dismay. At times he thought more like a ranger of the North and less like the King he was.

 
He was a King and should therefore behave as such, her mouth quirked slightly at the thought. She knew Aragorn would never behave as such anyways and did not desire him to. She had known him for many a year now and his impulsive and mischievous sense of humour never failed to amuse her and endear him all the more to her. But if he had gotten himself in a fix this time, she would wring his neck……

 
But all the same, she thought fondly, her heart had chosen well for her. She could not imagine herself being wed to a more noble, more valiant man than Aragorn. He was her King, the King of her heart and she was Queen who would rule by his side.

 
In retrospect, her dear Adar had been right to make her wait until Aragorn had fulfilled his destiny. She had always known that she would not tie herself to a pauper and Adar had been most insistent that Aragorn could be no less than a king if he wanted to win her hand in marriage. The wait had indeed been fruitful.

 
She could never remember being so happy as she was now. Aragorn lavished her with attention, love and pretty baubles and so much more. Her wedding gown that he had had tailored to suit her had been simply breathtaking. She could not ask for more in a husband.

 
And yet as the days trickled by, she found herself wishing for more. Something that she had always had in the Elven realms of Lorien and Imladris. Something that she could not have here for though she was the Queen, beloved of the people of Gondor, the womenfolk were cautious around her because of her Elven heritage.

She wished for companionship, she realised as she approached the door to her and the King’s chambers. Companionship of her own kind. Especially that of dear Legolas, her dearest friend since childhood. Memories of sweet summers spent in the vale of Imladris came flooding back to her and she smiled nostalgically. If only Legolas would travel from Ithilien to see her, she was sure that her temporary gloom could be lifted.

 
She entered her chambers, smiling to the guard who opened the door for her to find the Royal Apartments in disarray. She stared at Aragorn who was standing in the centre of the mess. Clothes were strewn along the floor, weaponry had been flung carelessly onto the bed, while Aragorn was stuffing various items of clothing in to a faded satchel that she distinctly remembered him having used on one of his ranger exploits with the twins.

 
Needless to say, it was not in as good a condition as it had been then, elven make or not. It was frayed, stray threads hanging out everywhere, the colour had faded to a murky brown but Arwen suspected that was more the fault of it’s owners propensity to drop it in every puddle he met more than anything else. But all this was hardly the point! Where did the man think he was going?!

 
Arwen stood her ground, immobile in the doorway and stared down the prt Kit King of Gondor with a steely glare.

 
‘Where do you think you are going, Aragorn son of Arathorn?’

 
Aragorn flinched at the hard tone of his wife and Queen. He did not mean to anger Arwen, he still loved her very much. She was a wonderful wife to him and an even better Queen and he was sure that given the chance she would be an equally wonderful mother to his children.

 
It was just that this was something he knew in the depth of his heart that he had to do. Something that compelled him and would keep compelling him, luring him, tempting him until he did it. He had to right the wrongs he had committed. But how to explain this to Arwen?

 
‘My sweet,’ he smiled at her. Arwen scowled at him and the sheer force of her stare at times could make even the most determined person rethink their present course of action. Considering on a less appeasing note, Aragorn decided to tell her the truth. He did not expect the reaction that followed…

 
‘But poor Legolas cannot be ill. He’s of elven kind!’ Arwen exclaimed at once feeling sympathetic for her old friend. ‘ Of course you must go to him, Aragorn and see what you can do for the poor thing.’

 
Aragorn was stunned. He had expected Arwen to scold him on neglecting his duty to his people and so forth. ’But what about my duty to my people,’ he stuttered.

 
Arwen it seemed was not listening. Instead, she was helping him pack! ’A friend in need is a friend indeed, Aragorn! I am coming with you by the way.’

 
This was much more than Aragorn could take in one day.

 
‘What?!’

 
* * * * *

 
Airanar was at his wits end. How could he have been so foolish? How could he have got so caught up in the moment so as to do something his Lord had explicitly told him not to do. Legolas would kill him! But then again, Legolas should be grateful to him for all the trouble he had gone to, to find a healer for him! King Elessar’s appearance would help his Lord overcome what disagreement he had had with the King of Gondor. And then everything would be back to normal.

 
Airanar snorted in amusement. Wishful thinking!

 
He had to find a way to prevent King Elessar from riding to Ithilien. His Prince and lord was already in enough discomfort as it was without forcing the presence an unwanted visitor on him. But then again, King Elessar was a very skilled healer by human and elven standards alike and Airanar was sure this pis presence and experience e would come in very handy in deducing what was wrong with Prince Legolas.

 
Airanar did not know what to do! Should he obey his Liege Lord and prevent the kin from travelling or go with his instincts and have the king of Men accompany him on his journey?

 
Airanar hoped that the Valar would send him an answer soon.

 
* * * * *

 
Thranduil Oropherion nodded as a guard handed him various reports and whatnot that he had to look over that day. It was the usual mound of mediocrity he decided, rifling through each one. A report on food stock, weaponry. Her was just about to put them aside to look at them later when a small piece of parchment caught his eye.

 
It was a letter from Ithilien, he thought with much satisfaction. It was about time his son wroo hio him for Thranduil worried about the young elf incessantly, though he would never mention that to ady bdy but his son.

 
Slitting the way seal with adept fingers, he sat back to read the latest correspondence on his son’s work in Ithilien.

 
After skimming the letter quickly, Thranduil sat bolt right up in his chair. The letter was not from las las but from Airanar, Chief Healer of the houses of Ithilien, proclaiming that Legolas was ill.

 
For a moment, the words did not register with the King of Mirkwood as he stared at the letter in confusion. Legolas ill? Elves did not get ill. This was indeed an odd occurrence and if Legolas Thranduillion thought he was going to shirk his duty be feigning some ridiculous human illness, Thranduil thought wryly, he had another thing coming!

 
Thranduil wasted not a moment in making his mind up about what he was going to do. Ringing the bell he summoned one of the guards.

 
‘Ready the horses. We ride to Ithilien at noon.,’

 
* * * * *
TBC…..