He managed to win the friendship of a wizard and a dwarf.
The hobbits consider him part of their family and even stop smoking when he sits with them, all out of respect.
Eowyn thinks him charming, Faramir intelligent.
Celeborn likes him, and even Galadriel could find no fault.

My father has chosen him to represent all elves in the fellowship of the Ring.
My brothers have fought with him and thought him both respectable and funny; the highest praise they ever gave to anyone.

He is my husband's best friend and he saved his live on a thousand occasions.
I have never heard anything other than praise of him, and all persons I love, love him.

Is there even the slightest, smallest, minuscule chance that I will not like him?

But still, I am nervous.
Though I have seen him before, at the council, at the wedding, we have never met.

Aragorn wraps his arm around me, and pulls me closer.
He is smiling.

"Legolas, this is Arwen. Arwen, Legolas."

The hands we shake tremble slightly, but that is not all my fault.
As we look into each other's eyes, we share a knowing smile.

He is nervous too.