Maeve of Sylvania

He was traveling to Mirkwood to visit his kin...having been raised in Rivendell since the age of two and Elrond being the only father he really remembered, it was easy to think of the elves as brothers. There was tension between Elrond and the young man since his love for Arwen had been discovered. Apparently he was not worthy of the Lady Undomiel, even though he had been raised by Elrond and his sons. Even though they shared bloodlines from ancient days. In truth, Aragorn's ancestor had been Elrond's brother. At the end of the First Age the two Half-elven had been given a choice to belong to one race. Elrond had become Elven while Elros had chosen his human side and founded the Numenorian line.

But it seemed that was not good enough for he was still merely mortal. And while in his heart Aragorn felt that he was not worthy of Arwen, it still chafed his pride to hear it from another. Particularly since Elrond had not limited himself to that, but also declared him not fit for any woman. 'You shall neither have wife, nor bind any woman to you in troth, until your time comes and you are found worthy of it.' And so he was off to find his friend Legolas and to find ways of proving his worth.

Lost in his thoughts of anger and hurt, the young man did not realize he was no longer alone until it was too late. Suddenly he felt the cold sting of a steel blade against his throat.

"How is it that a Ranger is so easily caught off his guard?" a voice murmured in his ear. Off his guard he may have been, but Aragorn's reflexes were lightning quick. From his kneeling position, he reached around behind him and grabbed his attacker's ankle. With a swift, hard jerk, he threw the stranger to the ground and whipped around to knock the sword away. Pinning down his foe, he looked around to see if there were others. Satisfied there were none, he turned his attention to the one he straddled, and came to the realization that he had been attacked by an elf woman!

"Who are you, what are you doing here, and why did you attack me?" Aragorn demanded.

The elf woman struggled to free her wrists from his grasp and tossed her head as she retorted, "I might ask the same of you. Do you not know that Mirkwood is the realm of elves?!" Her brilliant green eyes flashed. "I had heard humans were a brutish lot, but I thought that even they would respect women enough not to crush them into the earth!"

Aragorn stood, helping the woman up, but did not relinquish his hold on her. "I have a great respect for women, but only when they are not attacking me. Not that it's any of your concern, but I am going to visit my dear friend, the Prince of Mirkwood. Now why don't you explain yourself and I'll consider releasing you."

The elf turned her head and he could feel the anger draining out of her. " I am Maeve, an elf from Sylvania, near the far northeastern corner of the Great Forest. I am going to seek help from the King of Mirkwood. We may be isolated from the other elven kingdoms, but that does not mean we are unaware of them. I attacked you only in jest and was surprised that one traveling alone would not be more alert of his surroundings."

"I hope now you've learned your lesson that it is unwise to play tricks on a Ranger and that we may indeed be more aware than we appear."

Aragorn was not about to admit that she was right. That was something he would still have to master, not allowing emotion to distract him. He released her but could not take his eyes off her. Never had he seen an elf woman dressed in this fashion. She wore leather leggings, boots, and gauntlets with a green tunic. No wonder he had not realized her gender at first. And her hair was an unusual coppery color that reminded him of flame. He knew of only one more beautiful: the beloved and forbidden Arwen.

"What reason do you give me to trust that you will not attack me again, maybe try to slit my throat as I sleep?"

"If you are such a friend of the elves, you should know the word of an elf is true and need not be questioned!" Maeve nearly trembled with anger, anger caused not only by her bruised pride but also an effort to quell the attraction she felt toward the darkly handsome man.

" Fair enough." Aragorn bowed his head as he released Maeve. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to find dinner before dark." As he grinned, his face lit up and Maeve felt her heart skip a beat.

"Wait, I have some game I am willing to share...a peace offering if you will. I grow weary of eating alone."

Aragorn had wanted to be alone with his thoughts, but perhaps it would be better to try to put them aside. No sense in brooding over the situation until he could do something to change it. Besides, this Maeve intrigued him.

As they made camp and prepared dinner, the two made small talk about things such as herb-lore and poetry and found they had quite a bit in common. They got along well and decided to travel together to Mirkwood. The next few days passed idyllically and they grew increasingly attracted to one another, though they did not make it known.

Aragorn had gone in search of rabbit or some other small game, while Maeve was gathering herbs and berries to flavor the meat. As she worked, her thoughts turned toward the man she traveled with. She could no longer deny to herself that she had feelings for him. She wondered if this might be simply because he was so different from anyone she had ever known. Sylvania was quite isolated, rarely having contact with other Elven kingdoms, let alone those of other races.

Maeve laughed to herself; whoever would have thought she'd feel this way about a Man? Her people were haughty, being superior to all others....and yet there was something special about the Ranger. Could he be the one she'd been waiting for? She'd never really cared for any of the men in her village. While she'd had many admirers, they were mostly playboys better suited to the barmaids and other women that were more free with their favors. Never anyone that could be considered a serious suitor. Not that her family would ever accept a human...her father was probably trying to arrange a marriage for her...being well-born meant that she would have to make a 'suitable' match. Aragorn, she was sure, would not be considered as such....and yet she had never felt so comfortable around any man, save for her brother.

Returning to camp, she tossed her head to clear her mind. Silly little fool! Here she was entertaining thoughts of marriage when the Ranger probably was just tolerating her company and would be glad to be rid of her once they reached the court of King Thranduil.

Little did Maeve know, at that very moment Aragorn could not stop thoughts of her which kept intruding upon him. Deep in his heart he loved Arwen, and yet it seemed that she would not be his...did he not deserve some happiness? What if it had not just been Elrond that disapproved of his love for Arwen? Perhaps the Lady herself had spoken to her father, not wanting to openly reject him...Just when he had felt his loneliest the flame-haired Maeve had appeared, keeping him from despair... could it be a sign of what was to be?

Darkness would be falling soon and he had hunted enough for a good meal for the two of them. As he spied the fire that Maeve was tending, he pushed his thoughts aside. More than likely she would consider him unworthy as well; after all, she was an elf!