Erestor felt as if he had hardly stopped all day. Since Elrond had grudgingly told him the night before that he could have his betrothal, he had been a whirlwind of activity, helped and assisted by a delighted Arveldir. So while Erestor had been attending to Elrond's morning orders, Arveldir had been convincing the kitchens to provide party food and plenty of wine and beer for the evening. Glorfindel and Triwathon had been roped in to pass on subtle invitations to all Erestor's friends and the Silvan contingent was primed and ready to enjoy themselves.

Arveldir himself came hurrying up to Triwathon around the middle of the afternoon, just as he was heading to the main house to ask Lindir if he would like to attend the party.

'Mellon-nin, I need to thank you; last night you saved me from the worst mistake of my life!'

'Well, you and Erestor are fëa-mates; it would be wrong to...'

'No, no, no... that is, yes... but this morning, as I was about my business, Elrohir said to me, so you are making an honest ellon of him at last? I had to ask him what he meant and he... oh, he explained to me how much a traditionalist Erestor is, how, for him, the first time we were... intimate together, to him that would have been a betrothal, and I did not know; well, the Silvan ways are not Noldor, but I had no idea... had I relinquished him, even for the best of attentions, he would have felt so shamed...'

'I did not know that; I think it must have been different, in Gondolin. Or else Glorfindel is different...'

'Yes, you must admit, Triwathon, Glorfindel is different. Well, I must be off... I know Erestor and I exchanged betrothal rings over two centuries ago, but I want something else to give him and an armband will not be appropriate until our avowing...'

'Speak to Celeguel,' Triwathon said, smiling. 'And stop worrying so! You will have a wonderful evening.'

He smiled as the usually calm Arveldir set off in search of Captain Celeguel, and himself continued on his way to seek Lindir.

The sound of a harp being gently tuned led him round the back of the house to where a set of large windows were standing open to the crisp winter air. Within, he could see Lindir working carefully down the rows of strings. Seeing Triwathon, he stayed his hands.

'Commander, good day. You have an air of one seeking something?'

'Someone, Lindir. Yourself, in fact.' Triwathon went up to the open window. 'Tonight there will be a party to celebrate Erestor and Arveldir's betrothal; it is a little late coming, perhaps...'

'But that is wonderful news! And they would like me to play for them? It would be my pleasure! Are there any traditional Silvan tunes I need to know?'

'Lindir, please...! No, I am sure they would love for you to play, but you are invited, as a guest. You and Amathel, that is. Since Lord Elrond is a little uncomfortable with the idea of the formal announcement, we are passing discreet invitations around to all their friends and supporters. But perhaps, if Elrond was wanting your talents after dinner, should he think you have been asked to play for Erestor tonight, it might make it easier for you to get away...'

'That is, truly, most kind. Perhaps, then, I can offer to play, making music my gift. Do you know any Silvan songs...?'

Triwathon smiled.

'I'm sure Amathel does.'

A gentle tapping on his study door caused Elrond to look up from where he had been writing a letter to send back with the returning Silvans of the troop to King Thranduil.

What now? It was but an hour from the evening meal and he really had wanted to get this finished without interruption... but having left his door open, he could not legitimately object. Through the narrow opening, he could see Lindir patiently waiting.

He allowed himself the ill-manners of an audible sigh.

'What is it, Lindir? Come in.'

'My lord, forgive the interruption...'

'Yes?'

'I will not be singing in the Hall of Fire tonight; I have agreed to perform at the celebration of Erestor and Arveldir's betrothal...'

'What?'

'Arveldir and Erestor's betrothal celebration. At their villa, this evening.'

'I didn't realise...'

'I wondered if that might be the case, my lord, which is one reason I felt it important that you be made aware. So that, when you do not attend, I will know it is by choice, and not because you hadn't known of the event. I would not dream of saying so to my hosts, of course. Well, you are busy, I will no longer intrude. Have a pleasant evening, my lord.'

Lindir backed out of Elrond's study and bowed respectfully. He turned away before Elrond could see the smile of satisfaction on his face, and hurried to his room to change into his best robe and collect his lap harp; he would not be playing until after supper, but since he, and all Erestor's and Arveldir's guests, had been invited to eat with them first, he was on his way to their villa now.

Besides, Elrond might come looking for him, and he would rather not be found.

On his way out of the house, he found himself bracketed by Elrohir and Elladan.

'Did you ask Adar?' Elrohir enquired.

'To Erestor's party?' Elladan added.

'Nothing quite so bold,' Lindir said. 'To have invited him would have been improper of me, and possibly have made him more determined to stay away. But he is aware of the celebration, now, and is also aware, now, that if he does not attend it will be known to be a deliberate choice.'

'I don't understand him,' Elladan said, shaking his head. 'Whatever his opinion about... things, he surely would know that he's hurting Erestor's feelings? It's not like Adar to be deliberately unkind...'

'Well, your father's opinions are his own, and none of my business,' Lindir said, making himself smile. 'Now, come. It would not do to be late; Lord Erestor has a great value for punctuality.'

Erestor was fussing.

'Does the house look neat and tidy enough?'

'The house looks fine. Wonderful, in fact. As do you,' Arveldir said.

'And we have enough food and drink? Or too much?'

'All of it is fare that may be used in other meals, if needs be, nothing will be wasted. And with Glorfindel attending, could there be too much drink?'

'True. Will they come?'

'Of course they will come. You are highly respected by the household and much loved by your friends.'

Erestor cast an agonised look at Arveldir.

'But will it be all right?'

Arveldir put his arm around the slight shoulders with gentle care.

'It will be wonderful. Erestor, before we have company, I need to say something to you. I... it was something I did not know, I may have inadvertently hurt your fëa...'

'You? No...'

'Yes. When we first met and knew each other, and then after we parted, all the time that passed by us and I did not know, for you, that first glorious afternoon, how much it meant for your traditions...'

'Hush,' Erestor laid a long finger on Arveldir's lips. 'That was the afternoon when I lay under wide blue skies beside a river and had my arms full of wild wood elf, and it was wonderful. And that wild wood elf had, but twenty minutes earlier, been controlled and sophisticated... to feel I had brought about that change... you made me feel magnificent, mellon-nin, and I would have waited until the world's end to see you again, if I'd had to, and thought my time well spent.'

Arveldir covered Erestor's finger with his hand, lifted it away to press against his heart.

'Well, you have waited too long. No longer. Tonight, I will... how shall I say it? Make an honest ellon of you, finally...'

Erestor laughed and allowed himself to be gently hugged and led outside onto the veranda.

'Look down the valley; a little stream of lights heading our way. Our guests, Erestor.'

'And two more lanterns coming from up the valley; Glorfindel and Triwathon. It is fitting they should arrive first, and nobody starts a party quite like Glorfindel. And, look! He is even wearing his circlet in honour of the occasion!'

'We brought you a gift,' Glorfindel said, grinning as he climbed the steps with his arm around Triwathon's shoulders. 'Well. Two gifts...'

He relinquished his hold on Triwathon long enough to present his offering with a bow to Erestor.

'This is the first gift, a bottle of honey beer, all the way from Eryn Lasgalen,' Glorfindel said. 'The fact that Triwathon brought it all the way here, for me, and that we both agree it should be yours, for tonight, for when everyone has gone home, makes it more splendid...'

'Well, I am most grateful,' Erestor said. 'I have heard you reference the honey beer of the forest with many a sad sigh; it must be special indeed...'

'This is the second part of the gift,' Triwathon stepped forward with a smile that was suddenly shy and passed a folded and sealed piece of paper to Arveldir. 'Here are full instructions for the right way to prepare and present the beer. Believe me, you will enjoy it far better, both of you, than simply from the glass...'

'Whatever can you mean...? I am agog...'

'Best put it away safe for later,' Glorfindel said. 'Your other guests are almost here and, well... you won't want to keep them waiting for an hour while you test out the beer...'

Mystified, Arveldir shook his head and went inside, taking the beer, and the folded paper with him.

'Thank you, Glorfindel, Triwathon,' Erestor said. 'Go in and be seated; I must greet our other guests.

Glorfindel smiled and took a seat on the sofa, pulling Triwathon onto his lap. They heard Erestor speaking gentle welcomes to Celeguel and her Silvan troop and invite them in, himself following.

'There is another cluster of lanterns on the way, but let me serve you with drinks first... please, be comfortable in our home... Arveldir is just busy with something...'

'He's been a while,' Glorfindel said quietly to Triwathon.

'I expect he's reading the instructions,' Triwathon said.

'He's probably fainted with shock.'

'Well, you were the one insisted on drawing diagrams to go with it... and, with respect, I am sure not all of it was to scale...'

Glorfindel stifled a giggle as Arveldir reappeared, wide-eyed and shaking his head.

'Are you all right?' Erestor said, crossing swiftly to his beloved. 'You seem a little distracted.'

'Let me simply say I am sure we will enjoy both our gifts very much... Most kind, Triwathon, yes, I see now... Ah, Captain Celeguel, everyone, welcome...'

'Elladan and Elrohir are walking up with Lindir,' Celeguel said. 'Thank you for inviting us to share your celebrations.'

'You are most welcome,' Arveldir said, coming forward.

Glorfindel shifted Triwathon off his lap and onto the sofa.

'Can I help get drinks for people, Erestor?' he asked. 'So you can greet the rest of your guests?'

'Thank you, yes... Arveldir, will you join me?'

The Great Hall was very empty tonight, Elrond noted. Granted, many folk had left Imladris after the end of the War of the Ring, making their way west to the Grey Havens at Mithlond and thence to the Undying Lands, but this evening it was more than that; hardly anyone had come to the tables.

Oddly enough, it was almost as if the kitchens had been expecting it, for although the range of dishes was as broad as ever, the number of platters placed on the tables were far fewer than usual.

As it was, he was soon alone at the high table except for one or two of the knights and they had sat out of reach for conversation, eating and departing in haste.

With no excuse himself to linger, the Lord of the Last Homely House finished his meal and carried his glass of wine through to the Hall of Fire which was even less populous than the dining hall had been. The harp lay unstroked, no notes of flute or pipe softened the crackle of the flames.

Elrond sipped his wine and sighed. Everyone would be at Erestor's betrothal, of course. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. Well, while the house was quiet, perhaps he could catch up on his paperwork; Erestor had been slacking lately.

He set down his empty glass and left the Hall of Fire, heading for his study and trying not to feel ashamed of himself.

Erestor was starting to relax. No new guests had arrived for at least half an hour, and it seemed as if everyone they had expected was there. That aside, he was on his third glass of wine and beginning to feel rather mellow. Lindir was singing softly and playing a gentle tune and Arveldir was... was looking intently at him in a way that made Erestor wish he could send everyone home right now...

'Everyone got a drink?' Glorfindel asked, topping up glasses. 'Here we are... Erestor, come over here, Arveldir wants to talk to you... come on...'

Lindir finished his song and Glorfindel beckoned and gestured until Erestor made his way over to stand with Arveldir.

'Friends, our thanks that you have come to share our evening,' Arveldir began, lightly taking Erestor's hand. 'You all of you know that Erestor and I met more than two centuries ago; it took us far less time to realise we should be fëa-mates than it has taken us to be at the point where we can formally announce our intentions; we have been wearing each other's betrothal rings for a very long time...'

He paused to lift their joined hands and looked at their beringed fingers.

'Erestor, I wish it known that I want to make you mine to the end of the world and beyond. And not death, or kings, or Elrond will prevent me. I have this for you, as a further token...'

Relinquishing his hand, he reached into his robes to withdraw a simple plaited band of leather with two long ends.

'It is a traditional Silvan betrothal gift,' he said, fastening the long ends around Erestor's neck behind the weight of his glossy hair. 'It is worn so, and then, when the parties marry – take vows – it can be used as the token of that, and worn as an armband.'

'I am very grateful! And I would like to say, some things are worth waiting for. Or I would not have waited. Yes, I will be yours, and you will be mine, until the forests fail and the stars see all... and I have something for you, too.'

He handed Arveldir a small pouch. Inside was a lattice-work ring, constructed in such a way that it expanded and contracted to fit varying sizes. At its smallest, though, it looked much too large for any of Arveldir's fingers.

'It is very fine, Erestor, and I thank you. I have large hands, I know...'

Erestor lifted his head to speak softly into Arveldir's ear. 'It is not for on your hands...'

'Arveldir, Erestor – we drink to you,' Glorfindel said quickly and raised his glass. 'Have many years of happiness, and we want to come to the wedding... just... don't make us wait another two and a half centuries for the invitation!'

Elrond couldn't settle. His study was too empty, the house too silent. Every paper on his desk was an accusation, for it had been drafted by Erestor, passed to him by his advisor, commented on by him, and after all these centuries of service, now his advisor was abandoning his duties for...

No. That wasn't right. Erestor wasn't abandoning his duties; he had done all he could to ensure his work did not suffer, that Elrond was not left without counsel; he had put his own happiness aside simply because Elrond had claimed he could not spare him and was even prepared to bring his chosen companion here to live so that he could continue his duties.

Simply because Elrond did not, could not, would not approve had not stopped Erestor's meticulous service, his unfailing integrity.

And tonight Erestor was finally taking the unnecessary step of a betrothal, because his Silvan friend had already waited far too long.

After an hour, Elrond got to his feet and went to his rooms to find a cloak and a lantern and left the house. He could take a walk through the valley to clear his head; It was a bright night and it would be a change. And if his way took him near to Erestor's, well, perhaps he could stop in for a moment...

Arveldir looked into the sensitive, dark eyes of his beloved, his betrothed. Erestor was curled on his lap, head against Arveldir's shoulder, singing along to the love song Lindir was playing and making every word a gift. The Silvan smiled and felt his heart expand within his chest; this had taken far too long, but it had happened, finally.

'What are you thinking?' Erestor asked abruptly, his eyes glittering as he stroked Arveldir's hair with a slightly unsteady hand.

'I am thinking, thank you, all the Valar, for bringing me to this place, this night, this moment. I am thinking, let us have a shorter formal betrothal than an informal one. I am thinking... let us take our vows now, tonight...'

'Oh, I would love to, but I think you are a little tipsy,' Erestor said with considered thought. 'Does it still count?'

'I am sure it will.'

'A lovely idea, indeed, but I wanted you to have a proper Silvan celebration, such as I have heard of...'

'We have Silvans here, we have stars overhead, we have lanterns. Your necklace will be your token; I am sure one of our friends has a length of leather if you needed something to present to me...'

Glorfindel smiled at Triwathon, who was watching the exchange with awe, and snagged the blue-studded circlet from his head.

'Erestor... squeeze the points together and you will have a very fine token for your spouse.'

'Oh, I could not...'

'Just until you make him something. And he gets you home to the forest. Then you can do it again, if you want. But don't make him wait, any longer.'

'Can we do this? Now? And again, later?'

'I think it is a slightly different ceremony, but, yes,' Triwathon said.

'Will you, my dear Arveldir?'

'Would you?'

'Yes. Of course.'

'Then... why not? We will need a Witness...'

'Can I make a suggestion?' Celeguel said from a corner. 'Triwathon knows what to do...'