(A/N: A/N: Several of my readers have requested I write a subsequent story in which Legolas has his romantic notions turned upon his head, and he fall irrevocably in love. I hate to be pedantic, but nowhere in Tolkien's writings did he ever hint at such a thing happening to my favorite Elf. However, I am AU enough to admit it would be a fascinating tale. Is there enough interest generated by my Legolas' assertions that "in love" is a detestable state to warrant creating such a thing? And would anyone be willing to give me some ideas? Just a throw-out; I'll watch my responses to see if I've struck a nerve. As always, thanks for reading! -- Le Rouret)

“You cannot be serious, Legolas!” exclaimed Aldamir of Amon Din.

Legolas turned to him, his face dark with annoyance. “Why does everyone say that to me?” he complained. “For the last time, I am serious, I am serious, I am serious, serious, serious! Cirien, do you please tell Aldamir I am serious.”

“He is, I fear,” said the Yellow Knight, wagging his wisp-crowned head sadly, his crepey jowls trembling with the movement. “And you know, Aldamir, though I doubted him at first now I am persuaded of the efficacy of his schemes. And poor Deniel – “

“If I cannot doubt the Green Knight’s sincerity I shall doubt yours then,” said Aldamir, his face deeply troubled. “Araval is our friend – at least he is my friend – why I thought you loved him well, Legolas!”

“So I do,” said Legolas, raising his arms out to the side so Kaimelas could affix his sash. The late afternoon sun shone through the low windows of the room and struck the Elf full on the chest; the myriad beads and baubles and metal threads and pearls embroidered into the formal robe flashed and sparkled, and the little gems on his epaulettes threw back tiny rainbows over the faces of his two guests. Yet brighter than gems were the Elf’s grey eyes, and his hair like molten gold lay upon his shoulders to rival all the embroidery in his fine vestments. “But loving someone does not mean one ignores his shortcomings. Araval is a fine man – brave, loyal, good-hearted, kind, generous - but he steadfastly refuses to see his daughters as women and not children.”

“But she is a child!” cried Aldamir. “Especially compared to Mardil.”

“I am certain Mardil will be well able to overlook her youth at the appropriate time tomorrow evening,” said Cirien dryly, filling himself a goblet of yellow wine. The rooms in Osgiliath were damp and cool, a relief from the oppressive heat without, low autumn though it was, and the Yellow Knight did not bear the summers as well as he used. “She is quite beautiful after all.”

“Cirien!” Aldamir protested. “Not you too!”

“Come, come!” laughed Legolas, lowering his arms and letting Kaimelas brush his hair. “We are all men here and can well appraise the value of firm bosom and blushing cheek. What man would not want so pretty a maid for a bride?”

“I for one,” said Cirien, smiling in spite of himself and taking a deep draught. “A girl that age and with such vigor and fire in her veins would surely be the death of me.” His smile deepened, and he gave to Legolas a sly wink. “Though I own it should be a death more enjoyable than some.”

Legolas laughed as Aldamir gave to the Yellow Knight a dark look. “What is this O Cirien?” asked the Elf merrily. “Wish you for me to find another bride for this lord of Langstrand? What would you like, fair-haired or dark? What flavor meat do you favor from your birds?”

“My lords both,” said Aldamir disapproving, his cheeks flushed. “I find naught in this amusing to me. And Mardil is my elder yet you seek to pair him with a maid so young and high-spirited! ‘Tis unseemly in the extreme; she shall wear him down and overrun him quite.”

“Well Mardil is still quite hale and strong,” shrugged Legolas. He held his head still as Kaimelas affixed his circlet; the bristling mithril leaves and branches sparkled with gems. “I am sure he will be able to handle anything his little bride chooses to fling at him. And all the merry little daughters of Araval are high-spirited it is true, but also forget not that they are very kind; if anyone is wounded in this venture it shall be the third one.”

“Poor Deniel!” muttered Aldamir under his breath, but Legolas laughed again and said to him:

“She has made her choice; she is a wise maid and a good girl. She may be looked askance for this but I doubt not her marriage shall be a happy one.” Above them the bells began to ring, and Kaimelas went to the window and looked out, the bright sunlight gleaming on his sleek head.

“The ship is pulling into the harbor, your highness,” he said, grinning over his shoulder at his lord and the two knights. “And if I am not mistaken here comes your little esquire now, to chivvy you along to the reception.”

Sure enough the door to Legolas’ dressing room burst open, and Bandobras rushed in, still fastening his waistcoat. “Hurry, Master, hurry!” he panted, very red-faced, perspiring from his run in the heat. “The ship’s here and I can see Meivel standing at the bow, and the ladies are all in a tizzy on the lawn, with Lady Éowyn the worst of the lot though you’d never believe it – I keep forgetting she’s never had a wedding here in Osgiliath before – and the Dwarves have already got into the drink and are singing, which is awful, and Lord Faramir is having such a time with poor Mardil, who is so nervous I think he’s going to faint, really I do Master, the poor man’s quite white and I told him to eat a pastry but he don’t want to get his pretty blue doublet smeared, and Hallas gave him a glass of wine and I think it’s gone to his head for he looks so queer and panicky, and all the men are giving him advice and chaff about the wedding night, and if you don’t make them stop I’m afraid Mardil’s going to bolt like a frightened rabbit.”

“That would be unfortunate,” said Legolas with a grim smile. “I have gone through all this trouble to get him married; I do not wish to be obliged to drag him to the altar by his hair.” So saying he strode from the room, and the two other knights followed.

The air was heavy and oppressive, and the sky was dark with cloud to the north; however the folk so demoralized by the drought did not mark them overmuch, for ever during the long sullen summer had clouds gathered yet yielded not so much as a drop of rain upon their parched and thirsty earth. Gathered upon the lawn by the docks of Osgiliath was a great crowd of folk, colorful beneath the shimmering stuttering sun like a field of wild flowers, and clustered at the edge of the main dock beneath a pale pavilion were the Lord and Lady of Emyn Arnen, hosts to the affair; Mardil of Ethring in pale blue, the agitated groom; the Lord of Aglarond, after his third flagon smiling and beaming despite the stifling air; and sundry knights and lords in attendance by virtue of their close friendship with the Silver Knight: Cirien the Yellow Knight, aged and wise; Aldamir of Amon Din, kindly and loyal; Hallas of Lossarnach and his two strong sons all in brown; and of course the Green Knight, the catalyst of the whole event, resplendent in his formal robe and circlet, his little esquire hovering anxiously round his skirts and continually tugging and rearranging his Master’s clothing. A great carpet had been rolled out leading from the edge of the dock up to the main entrance to the citadel, and it was round this the other folk were clustered, bearing rather withered-looking rushes and branches to greet the betrothed couple and welcome them to the city. Poor Mardil kept fidgeting, glancing round nervously and tugging at the edges of his new doublet; he was as Bandobras had reported very pale, and his hands trembled. But he looked very handsome, his dark curly hair lay in shining coils upon his broad shoulders, and the color of the doublet was flattering to the blue of his eyes. He could not take his gaze from the ship approaching; it tacked crookedly into the little harbor and bobbed heavily, its sails luffing, up to the dock. At last it hove to and everyone could see the sailors running up and down the lines, casting and securing the ship, and when the gangplank was lowered with a thunk Mardil jumped and became if possible more ghastly than before. Legolas turned to him irritably.

“Mardil,” he said, his voice firm. “Do you please attempt to look lest ghost-like when your bride approaches! Do you want the poor maiden to think marriage is a thing to be feared? Come; put your chin up, and pinch your cheeks! You are so pale she shall suppose you too ill to wed.”

“I feel ill O my friend,” said Mardil; his voice trembled. “For twenty years have I longed for this moment, to take me to wife a maid both tender and true; yet never did I think me the maid chosen for me should be younger than my sentiments!”

“Nonsense!” said Legolas. “I tell you Mardil, this is the maid for you. Now! You have said that you trusted me with your life; do you not trust me now O my friend?”

Mardil hesitated, biting his lip; seeing the slow ire in the Elf lord’s eyes he said quickly: “O yes my friend, I do! But sixteen is so young, and – “ He lowered his voice, and glanced behind them to where Gimli and the other knights were chatting and laughing. “They have been giving me advice,” he said, his cheeks scarlet. “About – tomorrow night – and I – “

“Good heavens Mardil!” exclaimed Legolas, his eyes twinkling. “Do you not realize your bride shall be as uneasy as are you? Now come; I see Meivel at the head of the plank. Let us walk together you and I; it is not customary for the match-maker to accompany the bride-groom on this jaunt but I think you have need of my comfort right now.”

“I do that O Green Knight!” said Mardil with a shaky smile, and he and Legolas strode down the length of the carpet to the dock.

Meivel paused at the foot of the gangplank and glowered at them; he looked very hot and sweaty and disagreeable. But he bowed to them both and said evenly: “Your highness; my lord.”

“Meivel!” cried Legolas. “How delightful to see you my friend! I have missed you; I should embrace you but I perceive you are quite sweaty and soiled and my Bandobras should scold me were you to perspire upon my robes. How was Tarlang?”

“Hot,” said Meivel, adding sourly, “your highness.”

“And have you succeeded in your venture, O my sober and conscientious captain?” asked Legolas cheerily. “You have brought the daughter of Araval unto us then?”

“Yes,” said Meivel glowering at his lord’s jolly countenance; he looked very put out.

Mardil shifted from one foot to the other, looking behind Meivel anxiously; he said: “Where are they? Where are Araval and his family?”

“Lord Araval could not come,” said Meivel. He glanced at his lord and said, a little diffidently: “He – er – broke his legs.”

“Legs, plural, not leg, singular?” asked Legolas, looking very startled. “Both legs, O Meivel?”

“Yes,” said Meivel sullenly. “It was … “ He cleared his throat. “An accident.”

“Really.” Legolas raised his eyebrows at him and Meivel scowled blackly.

“Yes. Really. Your highness,” he said.

“Well you are a font of news and ill-favor,” said Legolas, his voice tart. “Where is Dúrfinwen? I have need of her cheer after so sour a reception.”

“She is not here,” said Meivel, glancing at Mardil, who was nervously plucking at his doublet sleeves. “She is in Erui.”

“Erui?”

“Yes. Erui. Your highness.”

Legolas stood very still and breathed in and out for a count of five. “And why, O Meivel my Captain,” he said, his voice forcibly calm, “is Dúrfinwen in Erui?”

Meivel looked again at Mardil; for the first time he seemed uncomfortable. “Well,” he said, and paused.

“Yes?” said Legolas; his voice brooked no further delay. “Well, what? Why is Dúrfinwen in Erui?”

Meivel swallowed, then turned away and ran his fingers through his dusty matted hair. “Well,” he said slowly. “Your highness, my lord. Er … she is with … Deniel … overseeing her wedding.”

Legolas blinked and said very deliberately: “Dúrfinwen, O Meivel, was charged by me to oversee the delivery and wedding of the daughter of Araval. So why is she overseeing Deniel’s wedding in Erui? Did she forget the wedding is to be in Osgiliath?” His voice sharpened and he added, “Tomorrow?”

“Dúrfinwen did not forget that you had charged her with overseeing Deniel’s wedding,” said Meivel looking supremely uncomfortable, and unable to meet Mardil’s worried stare. “Er. She is overseeing Deniel’s wedding to Lord Aldor of Erui. Your highness,” he added, and coughed.

There was a dreadful little silence at this. Meivel seemed embarrassed, and Legolas too stunned to speak; Mardil however looked from one Elf to the other, from the shining silver and gold of his friend the Green Knight to dark sullen Meivel, very perplexed. At last he said, his voice diffident: “O Captain Meivel, I do not wish to seem lack-witted or slow of thought, but did you not say not one minute ago that you had brought with you the daughter of Araval?"

“I did, my lord,” said Meivel, gesturing behind himself; and Legolas and Mardil beheld standing at the head of the gang-plank, wringing her little hands and looking very nervous and frightened indeed, fair-haired Elwen, daughter of Araval.