The Price of Pride

Elvish translations

Caun-neth – young prince
Sell nín – my daughter
Hîr nín – my Lord
Mellon nín – my friend
Tolo – come


Chapter 3

My father had sent me to Imladris to discuss a trading arrangement that would hopefully benefit both realms. Thranduil wouldn’t leave Mirkwood, nor would he deal personally with Elrond, but some means of communication was necessary. I was that means. Those duties required a certain amount of my time in meetings with Elrond and his councilors. I wondered at the pair of them. Dark-haired, serious Erestor and blond, playful Glorfindel. They were complete opposites, but they complimented each other perfectly, in many, many ways, I later learned, and their loyalty to Elrond was unquestionable.

I spent my free time with Arwen or the twins. I often joined the twins at the soldiers’ barracks during the day and walked the gardens with Arwen in the evenings. The twins and I sparred pllly lly on the training grounds, challenging each other to mock duels and archery contests. I usually won the archery contests. One of the twins usually won the duels. Arwen would come and watch sometimes, dressed as she always was, in a simple gown. I did my best to win when she was there, wanting to impress her with my skill. Then, one day, she appeared in leathers and asked to join in. I almost refused. She was an Elf-maid, after all. What did she know of the warrior’s art? Her brothers’ reaction stopped me before I could make that mistake.

“Now you are really in for a challenge,” Elrohir told me with a smile.

I raised an eyebrow, surprised, but before I could speak, Elladan added, “We have been teaching her all her life. Surely you remember from when you were here before.”

“Yes, of course,” I replied. Now that they mentioned it, I remembered, but I hadn’t paid any attention to Arwen in those days. “Are you good, then, mellon-nín?” I asked her.

“Good enough,” came her saucy reply.

“Show me, then,” I challenged. I don’t know what I expected, but I didn’t expect the hiss of her sword as it left the scabbard. I didn’t expect the grace and power in her stance as she faced me. I have seen many warriors in my long years, powerful, fearsome controlled, but only Arwen and, much later, the Shieldmaiden of Rohan could ever make the deadly dance beautiful as well. I wasn’t carrying a sword, but I had my knives, which had always served me well. I reached behind me and drew them, mimicking Arwen’s battle-ready stance. The first strike of her curved swogaingainst my knives too aba aback. I’d underestimated her, underestimated the force she could bring to bear against me. I began to ser inr in a different light as she pressed her attack. Elf-maid she was, but no soft, helpless maid. I was able to parry the blows, but couldn’t get enough of a respite to press an attack of my own. Even her brothers had never challenged me so. Much to mygringrin, one of my knives quickly went flying from my grasp. I blocked a blow with the other, but the sword slipped and cut my hand.

Arwen immediately dropped her sword. “Legolas, I am so sorry,” she cried, her dismay evident in her voice. “Let me help you.” She grabbed my uninjured hand and dragged me toward the Houses of Healing, ignoring my protests that it was just a nick, that I would cleanse and treat it in my own rooms. I was protesting out of form, not out of any real desire to escape. The feel of her hand in mine was sending glorious tingles up my arm. I could barely feel the pain from the cut with the joy of her touch coursing through me.

We reached the Houses of Healing and Arwen drew me to a basin where she could tend to the cut. She washed the blood away gently, then stared oddly at my hand.

“What is it?” I asked.

“The bleeding has stopped,” she replied.

“Is that not good?” I still didn’t understand the look on her face.

“Of course it is good, but a cut like this should have bled longer.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, being no healer myself, so I sat silently while she put a salve on the cut and bandaged my hand. The tingles from her touch continued throughout her ministrations. She let me leave, finally, with an admonition to rest until lunch. She was every inch her father’s daughter in that moment. I didn’t even think of disobeying. Even with the salve, my hand was hurting now that she was no longer touching me, so I retired to my rooms. I’d meant to sit and read, but I quickly fell asleep. When I awoke several hours later, my hand felt normal. I was surprised, but I undid the bandage to check the wound. Unbroken, unblemished skin met my eyes when I removed the dressing. I shrugged my shoulders, wondering what was in the salve that Arwen had used and how to get the recipe for the healers at home. Between fighting the spiders and the Orcs from Dol Guldur, we always had wounded in Mirkwood who could benefit from a salve thealhealed injuries in a matter of hours I I left the bandage off when I went to lunch. Arwen saw my unbound hand from across the room and came to my side. “Why did you remove the dressing?” she asked, grabbing my hand to examine the wound. She looked at my hand, then looked at me, a puzzled frown on her face. “I have never seen anything like this,” she murmured. She draggedtowatoward the head table where Elrond was seated.

“Ada,” she called, “look at this.” She showed him my hand.

“What am I looking at, sell nín?”

“Just a few hours ago, his hand was cut. I caught him with my sword when we were sparring. It was an accident. I treated it, like you taught us, but now it’s healed.”

“You have a remarkable healing ability, caun-neth,” Elrond observed, looking at me.

“Hîr nín, I thought it was the salve that Arwen used. True, I heal quickly, but no more so than any Elf.”

“I must think on this,” Elrond said, more to himself than to us. “Enjoy your lunch.” We started away. “Legolas,” he called after me, “rest your hand this afternoon even though it appears healed. We do not want to take any risks.”

“Aye, Hîr nín,” I answered.

As I was banned from the training grounds and didn’t really want to return to my rooms, I took to the gardens instead. As I’d both hoped and feared, Arwen soon joined me. Her nearness was affecting me more than I cared to let her see, and as I was wearing leggings and a tunic, she would be seeing far too much if we stayed where we were. I cast around for a reason to get us both moving. It had been almost a hundred years since I had last been in Imladris. Surely something had changed enough to justify a walk through the grounds.

“What is your favorite place in the valley?” I asked Arwen. It was a way to get the conversation moving toward exploring the valley.

“There is a small waterfall up behind the house,” Arwen told me, pointing. “It is not as spectacular as most so most Elves never bother to seek it out.”

“I do not think I have ever explored that area of the valley. If I did, I certainly did not find your waterfall. Will you share it with me?” There. An excuse to go scrambling around in the woods where I would be better able to ignore and hide my steadily growing arousal.

“Of course. I am always glad to go there. Tolo.” And she grabbed my hand. This was not starting out as I had envisioned it. I wanted to put soistaistance between us, not close it. Fortunately, the terrain was rough enough that walking hand in hand soon became impossible.

I followed her up a barely visible path. I was glad that she was leading me. Now that I knew the path was there, I had no problem following it, but I doubt I would have been able to find it without her. It took us almost thirty minuto rto reach the waterfall she had spoken of. When we reached it, she settled almost immediately into what I soon learned was her favorite spot to sit. I remained standing a short distance away. My arousal had faded, but I dared not risk it returning from her close proximity.

“What do you think?” she asked, shyly.

I regarded the waterfall and the surrounding area carefully. As she had said, the waterfall was not as spectacular as many of those that graced the valley, but the water sang sweetly as it tumbled over the rocks. “It is lovely,” I replied, closing my eyes to revel in the touch of the mist from the spray on my face. I have always been a sensualist, relishing touch and taste and sound. I was so caught in the feeling that my other senses were less focused than usual. When I opened my eyes, Arwen was standing directly in front of me, a look I dared not interpret as desire in her eyes. Before I could pull away or try to diffuse the situation, she whispered, “You are beautiful, pen-valthn.” n.” She stretched up, pressed her lips to mine, and ran.

I stood, speechless, and watched her go. Confusion reigned in my mind and heart. That was the chastest kiss I had ever received, yet its impact on me was incredible. Age aside, Arwen’s inexperience was obvious in that kiss and her flight. She had not even waited to see my reaction, which might have been a good thing, given the desire for her that I waseadyeady fighting. What stuck in my mind, though, was the endearment she had used. My golden one. Usually, she used my name, or perhaps called me caun nín, my prince. This was different. I started slowly back toward the house, still trying to make sense of my feelings. In the back of my mind, Elrond’s warning echoed again. Surely he would not oppose his daughter in matters of the heart. I pushed the warning aside as I felt again the gentle pressure of Arwen’s lips against mine in my mind. She had kissed my cheek when she was a small elfling but had not done so since my return. That had to mean something. Perhaps she was beginning to return the feelings I had for her. Perhaps we could have a future together.

I did not see Arwen when I returned to the house, and she was absent from dinner as well. Elrond examined my hand again in her absence and pronounced me fit. Then, the twins invited me to join them on patrol the next day. I saw no reason not to go so I agreed. We were gone for almost a week. When we returned, a summons from Elrond awaited me.