Thoughts of a Sindarin Elf

Hello my friends!

Here is a fan fiction story I've been piddling around with. I want honest opinions, now. This is only the first little bit, and I'll add more later. I'm not sure what to call it, so if you have some titles in mind, feel free to share. For now, it's simply called: Thoughts of a Sindarin Elf.



Preface
Let your mind wander back to a time before Sauron was a major threat; before the Fellowship; even before Frodo! 60 years have yet to pass before those things are even thought of. This story begins in the land of Mirkwood, in a time when war was a distant memory. But for the Prince of Mirkwood, war is nearer than he thinks.
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The day was beautiful. The air was cool and the trees were swaying in a light breeze. A feast awaited the group that flitted through the forest, and their soft voices whispered of fun and gaiety. Legolas followed, his heart light at the prospect of it all. The food, the music, and the wondrous wine of a royal feast. The elves made their way to a certain clearing in the woods and came upon the sight they were seeking. A long table, laid from end to end with a wide variety of edibles stretched out before them. Lamps were hung to dispel the darkness of the tightly knit trees about them. Their King, Thranduil, was seated at the far end. He beckoned all to come forward. Legolas seated himself at the right hand of his father. The sounds and smells were wondrous, and the prince took it all in. He looked around at the rest of the party and a sudden aloneness filled him. Although he was their prince, he was not one of them. They were of the Silvan kind, and he was of the Sindarin, the high elves. Their carefree view of life would never be his. He was more a part of the Nature of Middle-earth, wound into it’s very fabric. He felt when darkness crept ever closer to their sanctuary in the woods. He felt the moaning of the wind, the sounds of the forest, the cries of the earth through the creatures themselves. The people that stood before him were completely oblivious to the world outside the forest. Their only world was the woods around them.
He had just returned from a journey to Rivendell where he had visited his close friend, Arwen Undomiel. Through the long hours he had learned many things, but one person in particular had caught his interest. Arwen had spoken of a Ranger called Aragorn who had been raised in Rivendell and spoke the fair Elven tongue. Legolas had only seen him once before while the man was passing through Mirkwood, but the Elf had been watching from the shadows of the trees. On the fifth night of his stay, the Ranger returned to that sanctuary deep in the mountains. Legolas had been introduced and the two had instantly found conversation. Soon, they were well beyond acquainted, and were talking like long lost friends. Arwen had only smiled at the two, but the dreamlike look in her eyes had not been missed by Legolas. Later that night, he had confronted her about it.
"So what think you of this Elessar?" he asked. The moon was high and cast a glow on the land about.
"He is wise and kind," she replied. "And gentle."
" But a mortal," reminded Legolas. Arwen’s gaze fell.
"Yes." Legolas came and stood before her. He clasped her hand in both of his.
"You know what it would mean to be wed to such as him," he said. "I agree, he is a noble man, wise beyond his years and very kind. But..."
"He is a mortal," Arwen finished.
"Yes." Legolas cast a worried look at his friend. "To give one’s love to a mortal, means to become mortal yourself." Arwen nodded slowly.
"I have thought on it long," said Arwen. "And I..." she shook her downcast head. Legolas lifted her chin.
"You still love him," he answered. Arwen nodded, her eyes glittering with tears.
"My father, I am sure, will not hear of it," said Arwen. "He loves the man like a son, but he would die before he let me give Aragorn my love."
"He wishes only what is best for you," Legolas said. "And so do I. If you love him, and cannot be parted from him...then you must at least let your father know of it."
"I believe he does," Arwen said. "Elessar was talking to him privately today. And my father’s face looked like a stormy sky, waiting to unleash it’s wrath. He wishes that I..." she paused.
"That you...what?" asked Legolas. The Evenstar shook her head.
"It is nothing. A tale for a different time." Legolas looked puzzled but nodded.
"My only fear is that your tale will end like that of Beren and Luthien," said Legolas. "That your Beren will be killed, and you will give into despair and fade. A Ranger’s life is not a safe one."
"But the story does not end there," said Arwen. Legolas shook his head gravely. Arwen looked at him, searching for some hint of his thoughts. His face was expressionless. He stared into the night, lost in thought. Arwen let her hand slip from his. She thought she had guessed what his response would be, but now she was unsure. She turned to leave him alone with his thoughts..
"If you truly love him," said Legolas, "then I wish you both joy beyond the bonds of immortality." She turned to find what she had been hoping for, a warm consenting smile. "He is a noble man."
Arwen turned back to him and he wrapped his arms around her. She looked up at him and she too, smiled.
"You have been as my brother all my life," she said. "Your approval means more than you know."
"And your happiness means more than you know," he replied.
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The King stood for a toast. Following custom, Legolas stood as well. But before one word could be uttered an intruder ran into the middle of their feast. The forest of Mirkwood was fast becoming a dangerous place, so every precaution was taken to keep them safe. The lamps went out, the food was collected, and the company set out in search of a more secure place in the shelter of the trees.
"What was that?" whispered one Elf nearby to another.
"I could not see," replied the other, "but whatever it was, it mustn’t have been very big."
Suddenly a chorus of voices filled the clearing behind them. Many voices; most rough and deep, others more small, but they were all calling to someone or somethings. Not many of the Elves of Mirkwood could understand the common speech, but Thranduil and his son could. The voices were shouting names, not very beautiful, but names nonetheless. But they were soon too deep in the woods to hear their cries and once again, the lamps were lit, the feast was laid out, and the music began. And once again Legolas’s mind began to wander...
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During his stay at Rivendell, the prince had been privileged with many more conversations with Aragorn. He had learned just about everything there was to know about him, where he had come from, his childhood, some of his adventures, and hidden beneath it all, his deep affection for Arwen. He often observed them together, slipping off to some secluded area to talk. Arwen’s eyes glittered with joy when she was around him, and it warmed Legolas’s heart to see it. For like himself, the Elf maiden had lost her mother when she was young, carried away by goblins and then murdered. Her happiness was a blessing to him beyond words, for he truly loved her like only a brother could.
On the ninth day of his stay, Aragorn left for another of his long journeys. Arwen tearfully watched him go from the far side of the bridge. Legolas watched from the gate, but did not approach her. He felt it best to let her be.
As it came time for Legolas to return to Mirkwood, Elrond called him into his chamber.
"I am sure you know of the relationship between Elessar and Arwen," he said, somewhat pensive.
"I am," Legolas replied simply.
"And what do you think of it?" he asked.
"I am well aware of the consequences of giving one’s love to a mortal," began Legolas. "But so is Arwen, and she is willing. She loves him, and whether Arwen is fated to be wed to him or nay, she is already his completely. That will never change." Elrond shook his head angrily.
"I will not see my daughter fade into the bitter existence of mortality," said the older Elf.
"But that is just it," said Legolas. "Their hearts are already joined, and to be parted from him will cause her to..."
"I wish her to leave Middle-earth!" Elrond said in a passion. Legolas felt as if he had been skewered.
"What?"
"I have arranged for her a passage to Valinor," Elrond said. "It will take many years for the ship to be ready, but what are years to an Elf? She will leave, and go into the West, to forever remain the Evenstar." Legolas almost choked.
"Leave...Middle-earth?" he said. "That would surely destroy her!"
"What do you know of such a matter as this, Wood Elf?" Elrond said angrily. Legolas’s gaze fell to the floor. Some of the storm clouds departed slowly from Elrond’s expression.
"Forgive me," he said. "But I am torn as to what to do. I too wish her joy beyond measure. But to give up your heritage, your race, your immortality...only few have ever done so. And the consequences have been severe." Legolas came and put a hand on Elrond’s shoulder.
"But it is too late to change her mind. She is resolved, and as a friend, I have told her that I give my consent. But it is yours she yearns for." Elrond paced the floor for a moment. It was obvious he was struggling inside.
"A night’s rest and a new dawn will perhaps bring more answers," Legolas said. Elrond nodded slowly.
"When do you leave?"
"At first light," replied the prince. "Please, feel free to enter our Woodland Realm at your leisure. It is long since any of Rivendell have ventured there. You would be most welcome."
Elrond had nodded and bade Legolas a good night. And the next morning, he had left. But before he had done so, Arwen had come to him.
"A gift," she said. "So that you will forever know that you have my love as a friend; nay, as a sister." She brought forth a necklace, a long, slender chain of golden rope that resembled a vine, and at the end, a golden Greenleaf. In the center of that Greenleaf was a diamond image of the Evenstar.

OK, I promise it gets less lovey, but that's all for now. Honestly, tell me what you think.