The Price of Pride

Elvish translations

Díhena nin – I’m sorry
Mellon – friend

Chapter 63


“You must hate me.”

Arwen’s voice startled me out of my pensiveness. I had been trying to reconcile myself to this new relationship with Aragorn. I wondered if I should have said anything, if I should have told him that it was Arwen I had needed to speak to, if I should have made him realize just how close I had been to making that commitment. I had just decided that I was right to have said nothing as it would have served no purpose besides increasing the tension that I wanted to decrease when I heard Arwen speak.

“Why would I hate you?” I asked, turning to face her.

“I did not realize it for many years, but I stole him from you. The way he talked about you, I thought you had been chosen for his Cuivië as you had been chosen for mine. He did not say so, of course. That was my assumption. I stopped counting how many years we were lovers, neitof uof us ever taking another because we had not met the right one. Would you have called me mellon if you had come to the waterfall that afternoon, Legolas? Would you have told me that had had met the right one for you?”

This could not be happening. I had struggled for so long to hide my feelings. She could not know. She was not ever supposed to know. “It does not matter what I would have said,” I told her, schooling my features to impassivity. “I did not come, but he did. You were meant to be together, that much is obvious. It was obvious even then. I will not interfere with that.”

“And so you sacrifice yourself. Do not speak; I see the answer on your face, though you try to hide it. Díhena nin, Legolas. If I had known…” Her words landed heavily on my heart, the pity in her voice coming close to breaking me. I did not want her pity. For just a second, I closed my eyes, drawing the strength I needed from the woods around me.

“Do not say it, Arwen,” I entreated her. “We were not meant to be, else he would not have fallen in love with you the way he did. Whatever we shared ended the day he met you. I have accepted that.”

“Have you really?” she asked.

I nodded, unable to speak. Unable to lie. She accepted my response, whether she believed me or not.

“Then I have a favor to ask. Ada will not let me go with you on this quest. Once again, I must stay behind, the helpless maiden with no role to play, though I am plenty capable. I wanted to be the one to watch Aragorn’s back, to care for him and comfort him as he fights the darkness, but that is not to be. I need you to take care of him for me,” she said.

“What?” I stuttered. “You are asking me to…” I could not quite finish the sentence, but I needed her to be clear.

“He has no faith in himself, mellon, and it makes him lose faith in everything else. Even in me. He wants me to leave for Valinor, to leave him here to die alone. I cannot do it, Legolas. I have told him that, but he does not believe me. I need you to keep him strong until he realizes that I will never abandon him,” she ited.ted. “I could not, even if I wanted to. Though no formal words have been spoken over us, we are bound, as completely as two souls can be. I know it. He just has yet to understand. He will need all the support he can find. Take care of him for me.”

“You choose vague words, Arwen,” I told her. “What do you want me to do?” I hated pushing her, but I did not want to misinterpret. I needed to know exactly what boundaries she did not want me to cross.

“Anything that is necessary,” she said calmly. “Watch his back; tend his wounds; comfort him in times of darkness.”

“Are you giving me permission…?” Again I could not finish. I was not sure I wanted to ask the question. I was not sure I wanted to know the answer.

“Be what he needs you to be, even his lover,” she replied with a piercing look, “if it becomes necessary.” I did not know if her words were a blessing or a curse, but I did know one thing. Aragorn would not believe me if I told him.

“Tell him as well. We are only just now becoming friends again. I do not want that spoiled by actions that he might misunderstand. Nor do I want to bring tension with us on this quest. There will be problems enough as it is, without a rift between Aragorn and me.”

She agreed and left me alone again, with even more questions than when she had arrived. She knew. That was the first thing I had to accept. I had not confirmed her suspicions, but she was astute enough to understand what I did not say. I pondered the implications of her knowing for a moment. Did it change anything between us? I did not think so. Certainly, it changed nothing on my part. She had not known of my feelings when she met Aragorn, so I had never blamed her for my loss. As I had told Elrohir, I did not poach, and she seemed to understand that, so knowing that I had loved Aragorn should not change her attitude toward me. Unless it moved her to pity. If that hned,ned, I would just have to correct it then. I could live with many things, but having her pity me for loving her mate was one thing I could not stand.

Then, I thought ahead to the quest that was facing us. Could I do what Arwen asked? I could easily protect Aragorn’s back in battle. I would have done that even had she not asked. After all, I did not want to see my love – my friend, I corrected myself – killed. The rest was where problems could arise. She wanted me to tend to his wounds, to counter his doubts, to comfort him and ease his fears. That required more than simply being a warrior at his side. I understood the disposition of power within our fellowship. Frodo, as the Ringbearer, was the nominal leader, for it was his quest, but he had not the experience. We would follow Gandalf. Aragand and I, Boromir and Gimli, were the shield around the Ringbearer, the brawn needed to protect him and ensure that he succeeded. We would do that easily. I knew of Aragorn’s experience. Boromir’s and Gimli’s miens spoke as loudly as words of their battle-readiness. No, the problem came if I had to be more to Aragorn than just a fellow soldier. A friend could take certain liberties, ask certain questions, but only with at least tacit approval. Arwen was asking me to take those liberties with or without Aragorn’s permission, to treat him not just as a friend, but as a brother. Or as a lover. If we had never been lovers, I would have been able to treat him as a brother, on the basis of his Elvish upbringing. But we had been lovers. Any intimacy, however slight, would be a reminder of those times. Even caring for any wound he might receive. His caring for my wound had played a role in our courtship. By Elbereth, this was complicated. Yet how could I refuse Arwen? She would worry enough as it was, being separated from Aragorn, knowing he was undertaking such a perilous journey. My refusal would add to her suffering as she thought of Aragorn facing the challenges of the quest basically alone. I was still hurt enough by Aragorn’s choosing Arwen, though the feelings were fading, to wish I could let him go on alone, but I would never be able to act on those feelings. For her sake. And, if I was honest, for his. Even now, knowing she had made her choice, I still loved her. Nothing seemed able to touch my feelings for either one of them. Not permanently. I would do as she asked, though I did not know how I would survive the heartbreak it would inevitably bring.