"Haldir is my soulmate."

The way Legolas says it is unusual, to say the least.

Most elves are elated. Most elves, when they find the one for whom they've searched for years, decades, even centuries, laugh and beam and cannot hold in their joy. But Legolas, Legolas is somber. Legolas's tone is quiet, his face is crestfallen. If I weren't raised among elves, I'd say he was disappointed, that Haldir isn't what he imagined. But I was, and so I see things like the slightly down-tilted ears that are strangely motionless, like the dull cast to normally bright green eyes. I see that he is heartbroken.

"What were the words?" I ask, because I would have heard about it if Legolas had spent thousands of years with "The dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark" written on his arm. Elves are private about their soulmarks — that's why I still haven't seen his — but Legolas isn't that private.

Legolas looks down. "'The beauty of this land is great, and it fills me with joy to share it with you.'" He says it without inflection, as if it was learnt by rote. But than, it's been written on his skin all his life; it probably was learnt by rote, and long ago at that.

I sit in front of him, legs crossed in the fashion of the men of Harad. "You don't seem happy about this."

Legolas won't meet my eyes. "I am not, Estel. You can read me well enough to know that."

I wait. He'll tell me, soon enough.

We sit in fallen leaves and silence for several awkward moments, I cannot tell how many but that's just how Lothlórien affects the passing of time, before Legolas says, "I love another."

He says it quickly and softly, like it's shameful. I suppose for elves, it probably is.

But althought he's never told me, honestly? I'm not surprised. That's just such a Legolas thing to do.

"You love another," I prompt, because Legolas has paused like he was going to say more.

He nods without thinking about it, and, "Yes. And Haldir keeps talking about us, about we, about ours, when I only met him a week ago. He wants to get married already! But the thing is that's normal, I shouldn't complain, I'm the one who's breaking the rules, but I need to talk to Gil, I need to explain, and I don't —" his voice cracks and he leans towards me, so his skin isn't touching my shoulder but his hair is. I run my fingers through it, sable dark and gossamer fine, and Legolas falls forward so he's fully leaning on my chest.

I don't blame him. It is a very nice chest. I am well aware of my own good looks, un-elven as they are. "You don't want to leave."

He nods.

Gildor. It's Gildor he's in love with. I think, anyway: Legolas does seem to go for blonds, and he called the person Gil, and I've seen them unusually close in years past. They're a good match.

Haldir will not be happy about that, when — when, not if — he finds out. I just hope Legolas doesn't get hurt in the fallout.

"We're soulmates for a reason," Legolas says, like he's trying to convince himself. "We'd be happy together. Me and Haldir."

I lean back, place my hands on his shoulders. "Not if you go into this wanting something else."

Legolas nods. I can't tell if he believes me.

But I can tell that if he marries Haldir he's going to be miserable for the rest of eternity.

I can tell that this is a broken system.

And I wonder what he's going to choose.