Summary: "And thus it was that a Fourth Age of Middle-earth began, and the Fellowship of the Ring, though eternally bound by friendship and love, was ended." Branwen, the first child of Queen Arwen and King Aragorn, is as wild as the wind and as beautiful as her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. The task of her training has fallen upon the capable shoulders of Aragorn's closest friend, Legolas Greenleaf.
Legolas sat just outside the queen's bedchamber with Aragorn.
Aragorn paced nervously back and forth, from one end of the hall to the other.
"Aragorn, please, sit. You shall make my head spin if you continue your pacing like this." Legolas told his anxious friend.
"I can not," Aragorn replied as he paced some more, "Perhaps someday I will have the joy of speaking those same words when you pace the halls waiting for news of your wife and first child."
Legolas laughed, "Hardly my friend. It is not likely that I wed before I leave Middle Earth, if I shall ever wed that is."
The King of Gondor shook his shaggy brown hair from his face.
A silence grew between the two as time seemed to crawl by. The only sounds in the hall were those of Aragorn's cloak brushing everything nearby and the sound of his footsteps as he paced continuously about the narrow passageway.
Legolas tried to appear calm, yet his insides twisted with worry for the queen and her, as of yet, unborn child. He could hear the muffled voices of the mid-wives as they coaxed Arwen. Arwen's pained cries nearly covered the sounds of their voices.
The voices and the queen's cries suddenly ceased. They were replaced by the healthy screams of a newborn child.
Aragorn rushed to the doorway and Legolas was on his feet.
The mid-wives opened the door a moment later and allowed the two inside.
Aragorn moved hurriedly across the room to his exhausted wife's side.
The queen smiled tiredly up at her husband, then, together, they gazed down at the tiny infant in her arms.
"Isn't she beautiful?" Arwen whispered, cuddling the baby girl to her chest.
Aragorn could only stare at his first child. "She is so tiny." His brown eyes were soft and wide as he gently touched the girl's soft, pink cheek.
"Here," Arwen gently as she arranged Aragorn's arms to her satisfaction and placed the newborn in them.
The king cradled his child for a moment and then looked to Legolas. "My friend," He stood up and placed the child in his friend's arms.
Legolas' smooth mask of calm and indifference melted as he cooed gently to the awakened girl. He gasped as she seized a lock of his long golden hair and tugged at it. Before she could place it in her small mouth, Legolas untangled her fingers from it and moved it out of her reach. "You don't want that," He told her shaking his head slightly, "No you don't."
Arwen and Aragorn burst out laughing at Legolas' antics with their baby girl.
Embarrassed, Legolas passed the girl back to her parents. "What have you named her?"
Arwen looked thoughtful for a moment. "Branwen, as it was in a dream I had." She touched the girl's forehead, "Branwen, my daughter."
An arrow buried its head deep into the center of the target.
Legolas lowered his bow and looked over at his young pupil, Branwen.
Her emerald green eyes had taken in every movement of the arms and hands. In one fluid motion she pull her own bow string taut, an arrow notched. Branwen took a small breath in and released the arrow. It flew straight, plunging into the target just beneath the center circle.
"Excellent!" Legolas told her, a smile playing about his lips. She was a quick learner.
Branwen shook her head. "No, it should have been dead center." She brought her bow up again, ready to fire.
The Elf watched as the young human gazed at the target with steady determination.
A second later the arrow had buried itself in the target. This time it was slightly closer to the center, but not dead center.
Branwen looked away from the target and began to replace her bow in its proper place, then fetched her arrows from the target.
Legolas watched her with a thoughtful expression upon his face. "Branwen, even an Elf has a bit of trouble at first." He placed a gentle hand upon the girl's shoulder, but was shrugged off.
"An Elf is born with a bow in his hands, humans are not!" The princess retorted sharply, lifting her bow and quiver of arrows. Her long dark hair swung about in the sunlight as she strode towards the palace.
The Elven Prince shook his head as he gathered his own things up and returned to the palace.
Legolas walked with his friend, Aragorn, in the garden's of Minas Tirith.
"How is Branwen doing in her archery?" The Gondorian King asked his closest friend.
The Elf smiled wryly. "She's very talented with a bow, but, "He paused and glanced at Aragorn, "She refuses to see her victories, no matter how small they are. Branwen has a sharp mind and she enjoys using it."
Aragorn raised an eyebrow, "Oh, how so?"
"After yesterday's lesson she was frustrated at her inability to hit the target. I told her that even an Elf has problems at first. She replied that 'An Elf is born with a bow in his hands, humans are not!' Then she promptly walked back to the palace."
Branwen's father had a hard time choking back a fit of laughter, and did not succeed in doing so. "I do believe she got you with that one." He snickered.
Legolas shook his head. "Branwen is a bright child; there is no doubt about that." The Elf paused and glanced past the city walls and out to the nearest forest. "But what she lacks is friendship. Haven't you noticed that while most of the children her age are spending their free-time laughing and joking in the city's bazaars while she remains in her rooms reading? None of them dare go anywhere near her. As much as she'd hate to admit it, I've seen her, as we passed them in their groups, give them a longing glance as if she is dying to join them. Or perhaps for one to call out and ask her to hang out with them as well?"
Aragorn thought for a moment. "I have, once or perhaps twice. The child is loath for anyone to see inside of her. She hates it when her mother tries to have mother-daughter talks. Poor Arwen is heartbroken that her own daughter won't open up to her."
"If I might suggest something?" Legolas ventured.
"Of course, my friend." Came the reply.
"Let me take her out into the forest, let her use her skills for survival, and perhaps if it can be proven to her that her skills are incredible for a child of her age, and then it might just help her gain a friend. If not a friend that is her own age, perhaps one among the Guard?" The Elven Prince watched Aragorn's expression intensely.
The Man's face brightened visibly, "That would not be a bad idea! The child is old enough and can hardly be called a child much longer. What harm could be done? I shall speak with Arwen and give you her answer on the morrow. Fare thee well." He strode off to consult with his wife, leaving Legolas alone with his thoughts.
Legolas hoped that he might be able to draw young Branwen from her self-imposed seclusion, and maybe gain her trust and friendship.
Legolas mounted his horse and waited a moment for his young student to appear.
Branwen was dressed in the tunic of a squire. She looked much older than her thirteen years of age. Where many girls still had childish features she was becoming very much like the beautiful woman her mother was, and maybe more like her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. Perhaps her features were not as defined as that of an Elven maiden, but they held the same loveliness. Smooth muscles had appeared over the last few weeks, a result of her hard training, sculpting her even further into a vision of beauty that Legolas knew would one day bring suitors flocking to the gates of the White City.
"What are you looking at?" Branwen said sharply, jolting Legolas from his thoughts.
He did not respond, merely raising an eyebrow at her sharpness.
The human met his gaze with a defiant gaze of her own.
"Don't kill each other before you even leave the gates of Gondor!" Aragorn joked, breaking the determined silence, "Sometimes, I wish you weren't so much like your mother." He shook his head, "Stubborn as an ox at times."
Branwen gave her father and mother a peck on the cheek. "I will be back in a few days." She shot her mother a look, "And don't knot the loom too badly while I am gone, I just got it untangled."
Arwen blushed; embarrassed at her troubles with weaving that seemed to come naturally to the other young women of the palace.
Branwen winked at her father, "Though, Ada might be able to cut the knots out with his sword."
Her parents laughed and bid her a safe journey.
"Take care of her," Aragorn told Legolas, gripping his hand in farewell.
"I will, I promise you." The Elf glanced over at the rebellious girl as she mounted her own horse. "Shall we be off then?" He asked her.
"Yes, let's" She replied smoothly.
The pair turned their horses into the streets of the city.
The people of Gondor still found the Elf a fascination, and the fact that he was leaving the city with the girl that might one day rule in her father's stead only sent more murmuring through their midst.
Branwen did her best to ignore the stares of the Gondorian people. Several young men she had seen training with the Guard were standing beside the road, smirks upon their faces. They seemed to be taunting her with what they had, but she didn't. She didn't know what that was, but the smirks annoyed her. All Branwen really wanted to do was slap those stupid smirks off of their faces. She saw one whispering to his friends. As they rode by, she caught the words, "Bet she won't last a minute out there in the forest." How dare they! She was fuming, but managed to keep it hidden beneath a calm façade, I'll show them that I'm at least their equal, if not their better!
Legolas heard the whispering and placing of bets and he allowed his eyes to slide over to Branwen's face. It was slightly pale, but hard and determined. He allowed a small smile to caress his lips at his student's control of her emotions.
In but a few moments the pair had ridden through the looming gates of the White City and were riding South to the forest of Ithilien, to Branwen's test.